Oass-il/ ZOZ& 

■ / 




FAUST. 



LONDON: 
&OW0RTH AND SONS, BELL YARD, 
TEMPLE BAR. 



FAUST: 

A DRAMATIC POEM, I^Z 

BY /C. . if- 



GOETHE. 




TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH PROSE, WITH REMARKS ON 
FORMER TRANSLATIONS, AND NOTES, 



A. HAYWARD, ESQ. 



TO WHICH IS APPENDED AN ABSTRACT OF THE CONTINUATION, WITH AN ACCOUN'J 
OF THE STORY OF FAUST AND THE VARIOUS PRODUCTIONS IN LITERATURE 
AND ART FOUNDED ON IT. 



LONDON : 
EDWARD MOXON, DOVER STREET. 

MDCCCXXXIV. 



I 



PREFACE 

TO 

THE SECOND EDITION 

OF 

THE TRANSLATION. 



In this Edition much of the matter has been re-arranged, 
the notes are augmented by about a third, and an 
Appendix, of some length, has been annexed. The 
translation itself was found to require only a few ver- 
bal corrections ; yet even as regards the translation, 
I lay the work before the public with much more con- 
fidence than formerly, both on account of the trying 
ordeal it has passed through, and the many advantages 
I have enjoyed in revising it. 

It is singular (and to the student of German litera- 
ture at once cheering and delightful) to see the interest 
which Germans of the cultivated class take in the fame 
of their great authors, and most particularly of Goethe. 
They seem willing to undergo every sort of labour to 
convey to foreigners a just impression of his excel- 
lences ; and many German gentlemen, personally un- 
known to me, have voluntarily undertaken the irksome 
task of verifying the translation word for word by the 
original, and obligingly forwarded to me the results of 
the comparison. The amateurs of German literature 
in this country, also, partake of the same spirit of 

b 



( vi ) 



enthusiasm, and I have received many valuable sug- 
gestions in consequence. Another fertile source of 
improvement has been afforded me by the numerous 
critical notices, in English and foreign journals, of my 
work.* 

Besides these advantages, I have recently paid ano- 
ther visit to Germany, during which I had the pleasure 
of talking over the puzzling parts of the poem with 
some of the most eminent living writers and artists, 
and some of Goethe's most intimate friends and con- 
nections. Amongst those, for instance, whom I have 
to thank for the kindest and most flattering reception, 
are Tieck, von Chamisso,'f Franz Korn, the Baron de 
la Motte Fouque, Dr. Hitzig,+ Retzsch, and Madame de 
Goethe. M. Varnhagen von Ense, and Dr. Eckermann 
of Weimar (names associated by more than one relation 
with Goethe's), whoml unfortunately missed seeing, have 
each favoured me with suggestions or notes. I think, 
therefore, I may now venture to say, that the notes to 
this edition contain the sum of all that can be asserted 

* My German friends will find that I have retained a few expres- 
sions objected to by them, but they must do me the justice to re- 
member that they are at least as likely to err from not knowing the 
full force of an English idiom, as I am from not knowing the full 
force of a German one. A judicious writer (signing himself J. M.) 
who reviewed me in the Rtvue Encyclopedique, has truly remarked 
on this subject : " Vous pouvez savoir toutes les langues de l'univers, 
mais vous ne sentirez jamais egalement bien la langue poetique de 
deux nations." I believe few will dispute Dryden's proposition, 
that, " if a deficiency is to be allowed in either, it is in the original." 

t The real author of Peter Schlemil, most unaccountably attri- 
buted by the English translator to De la Motte Fouque. Both these 
distinguished men have so many other titles to celebrity, as to make 
it a matter of indifference, as regards them, which has the credit of 
this tale. 

\ President of the Literary Society of Berlin. Goethe's dona- 
tion to this Society, formed under his auspices, was an elegantly- 
bound copy of Carlyle's Life of Schiller. 



( vii ) 



with confidence as to the allusions and passages which 
have been made the subject of controversy. 

As some of the notions hazarded in my original pre- 
face elicited a good deal of remark, I have left it pretty 
nearly as it stood, — to prove to future readers that I 
was guilty of no extraordinary heresies. I have merely 
added an occasional note or two to passages which were 
made to bear a meaning very different from mine.* 

I have no desire to prolong the discussion as to the 
comparative merit of prose and metrical translations ; 
but, to prevent renewed misconstruction, I take this 
opportunity of very briefly restating my views. 

Here (I thought) is a poem, which, in addition to the 
exquisite charm of its versification, is supposed to 
abound in philosophical notions and practical maxims 
of life, and to have a great moral object in view. It is 
written in a language comparatively unfettered by 
rule, presenting great facilities for the composition of 
words and, by reason of its plastic qualities, naturally, 
as it were, and idiomatically adapting itself to every 
variety of versification. The author is a man whose 
genius inclined (as his proud position authorised) him 
to employ the license thus enjoyed by the writers of 
his country to the full, and in the compass of this single 
production he has managed to introduce almost every 
conceivable description of metre and rhythm. The 
translator of such a work into English, a language 
strictly subjected to that " literary legislation, from 
which it is the present (perhaps idle) boast of Germany 
to be free, is obviously in this dilemma : he must sacri- 
fice either metre or meaning; and in a poem which it 
is not uncommon to hear referred to in evidence of the 

* The additional notes are placed between brackets, 
t Miihlenfel's Lecture. 

b 2 



( viii ) 



moral, metaphysical, or theological views of the author, 
which, as already intimated, has exercised a great 
part of its widely-spread influence by qualities that 
have no more necessary connection with verse than 
prose, I, for one, prefer sacrificing metre. 

The dilemma was fairly stated in the Edinburgh 
Review : — " When people are once aware how very 
rare a thing a successful translation must ever be, from 
the nature of the case, they will be more disposed to 
admit the prudence of lessening the obstacles as much 
as possible. There will be no lack of difficulties to 
surmount, (of that the French school may rest assured,) 
after removing out of the way every restraint that can 
be spared. If the very measure of the original can be 
preserved, the delight with which our ear and imagina- 
tion recognise its return, add incomparably to the 
triumph and the effect. Many persons, however, are 
prepared to dispense with this condition, who, never- 
theless, shrink from extending their indulgence to a 
dispensation from metre altogether. But it is really 
the same question which a writer and his critics have 
to determine in both cases. If the difficulty of the 
particular metre, or of metre generally, can be mas- 
tered without sacrificing more on their account than 
they are worth, they ought undoubtedly to be pre- 
served. What, however, in any given case, is a nation 
to do, until a genius shall arise who can reconcile con- 
tradictions which are too strong for ordinary hands ? 
In the meanwhile, is it not the wisest course to make 
the most favourable bargain that the nature of the 
dilemma offers ? Unless the public is absurd enough 
to abjure the literature of all languages which are not 
universally understood, there can be no member of the 
public who is not dependent, in one case or another, 



( a ) 



upon translations. The necessity of this refuge for the 
destitute being once admitted, it follows that they are 
entitled to the best that can be got. What is the best ? 
Surely that in which the least of the original is lost — 
least lost in those qualities which are the most import- 
ant. The native air and real meaning of a work are 
more essential qualities than the charm of its numbers, 
or the embellishments and the passion of its poetic 
style. The first is the metal and the weight; the 
second is the plating and the fashion." — (No. 115, 
pp. 112, 113.)* 

A writer in the Examiner, himself a poet, speaks 
still more decidedly, and claims for prose translators a 
distinction which we should hardly have ventured to 
arrogate to ourselves : 

" Every one knows the magnificent translations 
left by Shelley of the Prologue in Heaven and the 
May-Day Night Scene; fragments which, of them- 
selves, have won many a young mind to the arduous 
study of the German language. By the industry of 
the present translator we learn, that many passages 
we have been in the habit of admiring in those trans- 
lations are not only perversions but direct contra- 
dictions of the corresponding passages in Goethe, and 
that Shelley wanted a few months' study of German to 
make him equal to a translation of Faust. "We do not 
think the translator need have troubled himself with 
any dissertation of this sort, in order to justify the 
design of a prose translation of Faust. 4 My main 
object,' he says, ' in these criticisms is to shake, if not 
remove, the very disadvantageous impressions that 
have hitherto been prevalent of Faust, and keep public 
opinion suspended concerning Goethe, till some poet of 

* This article has been translated into French and re-published 
in the Revue Britannique. 



( x ) 



congenial spirit shall arise capable of doing justice to 
this the most splendid and interesting of his works.' 
Why not go further than this, and contend that a mind 
strongly imbued with poetical feeling, and rightly 
covetous of an acquaintance with the poet, will not rest 
satisfied with any thing short of as exact a rendering of 
his words as the different phraseology of the two lan- 
guages will admit ? In such a translation, be it never 
so well executed, we know that much is lost; but 
nothing that is lost can be enjoyed without studying the 
! language. No poetical translation can give the rhythm 
and rhyme of the original ; it can only substitute the 
rhythm and rhyme of the translator ; and for the sake 
of this substitute we must renounce some portion of 
the original sense, and nearly all the expressions; 
whereas, by a prose translation, we can arrive perfectly 
at the thoughts, and very nearly at the words of the 
original. When these (as in Faust) have sprung from 
the brain of an inspired master, have been brooded 
over, matured, and elaborated during a great portion of 
a life, and finally issue forth, bearing upon them the 
stamp of a creative authority, to what are we to sacri- 
fice any part or particle which can be made to survive 
in a literal transcript or paraphrase of prose ? To the 
pleasure of being simultaneously tickled by the metres 
of a native poetaster, which, if capable of giving any 
enjoyment at all, will find themselves better wedded to 
his own original thoughts, and which, were they the 
happiest and most musical in the world, can never ring 
out natural and concording music to aspirations born 
in another time, clime, and place, nor harmonize, like 
the original metres, with that tone of mind to which 
they should form a kind of orchestral accompaniment 
in its creative mood. The sacred and mysterious union 
of thought with verse, twin born and immortally wedded 



( xi ) 



from the moment of their common birth, can never be 
understood by those who desire verse translations of 
good poetry. 

" Nevertheless, the translator of poetry must be a 
poet, although he translates in prose. Such only can 
have sufficient feeling to taste the original to the core, 
combined with a sufficient mastery of language to give 
burning word for burning word, idiom for idiom, and 
the form of expression which comes most home in 
English for that which comes most home in German. 
Such a task, in fact, is one requiring a great proportion 
of fire, as well as delicacy and judgment, and by no 
means what Dr. Johnson thought it — a task to be exe- 
cuted by any one who can read and understand the 
original."-~(No. 1312, March 24, 1833.) 

Another influential journal followed nearly the same 
line of argument : 

" To the combination — unhappily too rare — of genius 
and energy, few things are impossible ; and we further 
venture to assert that, of the two undertakings, such a 
prose translation as the present is far more difficult than 
a metrical version could be, always supposing the pos- 
session of an eminent power of languages, and a pure 
poetical taste, to be equal in the one attempt and the 
other."*— (The Athenaeum for April 27th, 1833.) 

The minor critics are fond of comparing a prose 

* I am told this notice was written by the author of a much- admired 
metrical translation of Wallenstein's Camp, which appeared in 
one of the early numbers of Fraser's Magazine. It should be 
added that he is contending for the possibility (if not probability) 
of an adequate metrical translation of Faust. The difficulty of prose 
translation consists in the extreme fidelity exacted by it. 

I am induced to quote these passages by the natural wish which 
every man must feel to elevate the character of his undertaking ; 
that my own claims are not very extravagant, may be seen, post, 
Preface, p. xcix. 



( xii ) 



translation to a skeleton. The fairer comparison would 
be, to an engraving from a picture ; where we lose, 
indeed, the charm of colouring, but the design, invention, 
composition, expression, nay, the very light and shade of 
the original, may be preserved. It may not be deemed 
wholly inapplicable to remark, that unrhymed verse 
had to encounter, on its first introduction in most coun- 
tries, a much larger share of prejudiced opposition than 
prose translations of poetry seem destined to encounter 
amongst us. Milton found it necessary to enter on an 
elaborate and, it must be owned, rather dogmatical 
defence ; and so strong was the feeling against Klop- 
stock, that Goethe's father refused to admit the Messiah 
into his house on account of its not being in rhyme, 
and it was read by his wife and children by stealth.* 

With regard to the dispute about free and literal 
translation, Mrs. Austin, by one happy reference, has 
satisfactorily determined the principle, and left nothing 
but the application in each individual case to dispute 
about : 

" It appears to me that Goethe alone (so far as I 
have seen) has solved the problem. In his usual man- 
ner he turned the subject on all sides, and saw that 
there are two aims of translation, perfectly distinct, 
nay, opposed ; and that the merit of a work of this 
kind is to be judged of entirely with reference to its 
aim. 

" ' There are two maxims of translation,' says he, 
' the one requires that the author of a foreign nation be 
brought to us in such a manner that we may regard him 
as our own ; the other, on the contrary, demands of us 

* Dichtung und Wahrheit, b. 3. The Messiah is in hexameter 
verse, distinguished, however, from the Greek and Latin hexameters 
by the frequent substitution of trochees for spondees. 



( xiii ) 



that we transport ourselves over to him, and adopt his 
situation, his mode of speaking, his peculiarities. The 
advantages of both are sufficiently known to all in- 
structed persons from masterly examples.' 

" Here, then, 1 the battle between free and literal 
translation,' as the accomplished writer of an article in 
the last Edinburgh Review calls it, is set at rest for 
ever, by simply showing that there is nothing to fight 
about ; that each is good with relation to its end — the 
one when matter alone is to be transferred, the other 
when matter and form." — (Characteristics of Goethe §c. 
vol. i. pp. xxxii. to xxxiv.) 

I do not think any one will deny that both matter and 
form are important in Faust ; and this brings me to 
another notion of mine, which has been rather uncere- 
moniously condemned. At page lxxxix. of my original 
Preface I had said : — " Acting on his theory, he (M. 
Sainte-Aulaire) has given a clear and spirited, but 
vague and loose, paraphrase of the poem, instead of a 
translation of it; invariably shunning the difficulties 
which various meanings present, by boldly deciding 
upon one, instead of trying to shadow out all of them — 
which I regard as one of the highest triumphs a trans- 
lator can achieve — and avoiding the charge of incorrect- 
ness by making it almost impossible to say whether the 
best construction has suggested itself or not." 

On this the able critic in the Edinburgh Review 
remarks : — " Mr. Hay ward says, that one of the highest 
triumphs of a translator, in a passage capable of various 
meanings, is to shadow out them all. In reply to this 
our first remark is, that his own practice, according to 
his own account of it, is inconsistent with his rule. In 
the course of his inquiries he says, that ' he has not 
unfrequently had three or four different interpretations 



( xiv ) 



suggested to him by as many accomplished German 
scholars, each ready to do battle for his own against the 
world.' What then? Does he say that he has at- 
tempted to shadow out them all ? So far from it, he 
insists — we dare say with justice — that readers who 
may miss their favourite interpretation in his version 
of any passage, are bound to give him the credit of 
having wilfully ' rejected it.' " — No. 115, p. 133. 

The writer here confounds attempting to do, with 
doing; and contrasts, as inconsistent, passages referring 
to different descriptions of difficulties. I will give an 
example of my theory. At the beginning of the prison 
scene {post, p. 19o) occurs this puzzling line: 
" Fort! dein zagen zogert den Tod heran." 
Two interpretations, neither quite satisfactory, are 
suggested to me : it may mean either that death is 
advancing whilst Faust remains irresolute, or that death 
is accelerated by his irresolution. Having, therefore, 
first ascertained that the German word zdgern corre- 
sponds with the English word linger, and that, in 
strictness, neither could be used as an active verb, I 
translated the passage literally : " On ! thy irresolution 
lingers death hitherwards ;" and thus shadowed out 
the same meanings, and gave the same scope to com- 
mentary, as the original. Of course, this is only 
practicable where exactly corresponding expressions 
can be had ; for instance, in the passage to which the 
note at p. 209 relates, we have no corresponding ex- 
pression for Das Werdende, and must therefore be con- 
tent with a paraphrase ; but, in the latter part of the 
same passage, I see no reason for Shelley's changing 
enduring (the plain translation of dauernden) into sweet 
and melancholy, nor for M. Sainte-Aulaire's rendering the 
two last lines of the speech by — et soumettez d Veprewoe de 



( xv ) 



la sagesse les fantomes que de vagues desirs vous presentent, 
thereby gaining nothing in point of perspicuity, when 
he had French expressions adapted to a literal version 
at his command. Not unfrequently the literal meaning 
of a word (as in Ein dunkler Ehrenman), or the gram- 
matical construction of a passage (as in Dock hast Du 
Speise SfC.) is disputed ; and as it is impossible to con- 
strue two ways at once, in such instances rejection is 
unavoidable. I was thinking of these when I spoke of 
having not unfrequently had three or four different in- 
terpretations suggested to me* 

I have said enough to show the practicability of my 
theory in the only cases I meant it to embrace. It 
may be useful to show by an instance or two how much 
mischief may result from the neglect of it. The al- 
chymical description, as explained by Mr. Griffiths 
(p. 222) has been generally regarded as a valuable il- 
lustration of the literary peculiarities of Goethe. Now 
all preceding translators, considering it as rubbish, had 
skipped, or paraphrased, or mistranslated it; so that 
the French or English reader, however well acquainted 
with alchymical terms, could have made nothing of it. 
I was as much in the dark as my predecessors ; but I 
thought that there might be something in it, though I 
could see nothing ; I therefore translated the passage 
word for word, and then sent it to Mr. Griffiths. His 

* The following is another instance. In the Prologue for the 
Theatre occurs this line : 

" Was macht ein voiles Haus euch froh 1" 

which may be construed either : " Why does a full house make you 
merry'?" or, " What is it that makes a full house merry V I did 
not even attempt to shadow out both meanings, for I saw at a glance 
the impossibility of framing an English sentence capable of con- 
taining them, but I wished to do so, and would have done so if I 
could. 



( xvi ) 



very interesting explanation was the consequence. This 
may be called an extreme case, but it shows the folly 
of excluding or altering plain words because we our- 
selves are unable at the moment to interpret them ; and 
as a fact within my own immediate experience, I may 
add, that expressions seemingly indifferent in their 
proper places, so frequently supply the key to sub- 
sequent allusions, that a translator always incurs the 
risk of breaking or injuring some link in the chain of 
association by a change. For instance, in my first 
edition I followed Shelley in translating vereinzelt sich, 
— masses itself, under an idle notion that the context 
required it ; and every body thought me right, until Mr. 
Heraud one evening took up the book and proved to 
me that the most obvious signification {scatters itself) 
was the best, and that I had disconnected the following 
line and marred the continuity of the whole description 
by the change.* 

" I was wont boldly to affirm," says Mr. Coleridge, 
" that it would be scarcely more difficult to push a stone 
out from the pyramids with the bare hand, than to alter 
a word, or the position of a word, in Shakspeare or 
Milton, (in their most important works at least,) with- 
out making the author say something else, or some 
thing worse, than he does say." This observation is 
strictly applicable to the first part of Faust. 

Again, the most beautiful expressions in poetry (such 
expressions as Dante is celebrated for) are often in 
direct defiance of all rule or authority, and afford ample 
scope for cavilling. Is the translator to dilute or filter 
them, for fear of startling his reader by novelty or in- 
volving him in momentary doubt ? I am sorry to say 
that Mr. Coleridge has given some sanction to those 
* See the note, post, 176. 



( xvii ) 



who might be inclined to answer this question affirma- 
tively. After making Wallenstein say : 

" This anguish will be wearied down, I know; 
What pang is permanent with man ?" 

he adds in a note : 

" A very inadequate translation of the original :" 

" Verschmerzen werd' ich diesen Schlag, das weiss ich, 
Denn was verschmerzte nicht der Mensch ?" 

Literally : 

" I shall grieve down this blow, of that I'm conscious; 
What does not man grieve down ?" 

I trust my very high and constantly expressed ad- 
miration of Mr. Coleridge, will be held some apology 
for the presumption of the remark — but I really 
see no earthly reason for excluding the literal trans- 
lation from the text. One of our most distin- 
guished men of letters, who knew the German poets 
only through translations, once complained to me that 
he seldom found them painting, or conveying a fine 
image, by a word ; as in the line — 

" How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon that bank. 

How should he, unless that mode of translation, 
which I have thus ventured on vindicating, be pursued? 

In the Edinburgh Review it is also suggested, that I 
have not gone the length I ought to have done, in 
reverting to the word from the Anglo-Saxon, rather 
than to its colleague from the Norman-French, wher- 
ever the double origin of our language offered a double 
choice. I beg leave to say, that my theory on this 
subject agrees with the writer's ; and I am inclined to 
think that the suggestion was rather inconsiderately 



( xviii ) 



thrown out. He cites but two instances, and does not 
give the Saxon words by which, in his opinion, my 
Norman-French should be replaced. I do not say he 
cannot, but I know no one else can ; and as not above 
a sixth part of our language is Saxon, the onus must 
always lie on the objector in such cases.* 

Some of my friends dissuaded me from the course I 
am here following, conceiving it infra dig., I fancy, to 
recognize the existence of anonymous writers at all. 
To me, knowing as I do that almost all the talent of 
the country is now working through the medium of 
reviews and newspapers, there is something almost 
ludicrous in the notion of my affecting indifference 
to their remarks ; and I avow, once for all, that I 
shall never willingly permit any mistatement or mis- 
conception concerning myself or my writings to remain 
unanswered, provided it possesses plausibility and cir- 
culation. 

The only time I was ever in a room with Benjamin 
Constant, a violent newspaper attack on Dupin aine, 
relative to his conduct during the Three Days, became 
the topic of conversation. Some one said, Dupin should 
despise such attacks. " If I were Dupin," saidBenja- 
min Constant, " I would answer them first, and despise 
them afterwards." 

If additional authority were wanting, I could fur- 
nish it : " Corneille et Moliere avaient pour habitude 
de repondre en detail aux critiques que leurs ouvrages 
suscitaient, et ce n'est pas une chose peu curieuse 

* In Spence's Anecdotes it is estimated that the English language 
then consisted of 22,000 words, of which 3000 were Saxon. Subse- 
quent additions have been very large, but it may be doubted whether 
the proportion of Saxon words has not been rather diminished than 
augmented. 



( xix ) 



aujourd'hui de voir ces geans du theatre se debattre 
dans des avant-propos et avis au lecteur sous l'inex- 
tricable reseau d' objections que la critique contem- 
poraine ourdissait sans relache autour d'eux." I quote 
from Victor Hugo's preface to Lucrece Borgia; he 
declares against the practice, but on very peculiar 
grounds : " Ce qui sied a des homines pleins d'autorite, 
comme Moliere et Corneille, ne sied pas a d'autres. 
D'ailleurs il n'y a peut-etre que Corneille au monde 
qui puisse rester grand et sublime, au moment meme 
ou il fait mettre une preface a, genoux devant Scudery 
ou Chapelain. L'auteur est loin d'etre Corneille ; Faii- 
teur est loin d'avoir affaire a Chapelain ou a Scudery." 

The same motive which induces me to reprint the 
rest of the preface substantially unaltered, induces me to 
reprint that part of it which relates to Lord Francis Le- 
veson Gower (now Lord Francis Egerton), substantially 
unaltered too ; for I cannot admit that it contains anything 
requiring retractation or apology. I studiously confined 
myself to the individual work ; I laid particular stress 
on the noble author's acknowledged taste and talents ; 
I dwelt on the great beauty of detached passages, which 
certainly none but a poetic mind of a high order could 
have produced ; and I quoted fairly the praises that had 
been lavished on him by critics of far greater authority 
than myself. Still, if any one thinks that I have been 
hurried into any unbecoming asperity, I do hereby 
declare, in all earnestness and sincerity, that I am sorry 
for it. I have reason to believe that nothing of the sort 
was discovered by the person most interested ; who 
expressed himself precisely as a high-bred gentleman, of 
sense and candour, would express himself on such an 
occasion. 

In Appendix, No. 1, 1 have added a short analysis 



( xx ) 



of the second and concluding part of Faust, just full 
enough to give a general notion of the plot, if plot it 
can be called, where plot is none. I have been recom- 
mended, both publicly and privately, to translate the 
whole, and on the first announcement of the work I 
had pretty well resolved on doing so ; but the perusal 
convinced me that the scenes were too disconnected to 
excite much interest, and that the poetry had not sub- 
stance enough to support a version into prose. As I 
have said already in another place,* the second part 
presents few of those fine trains of philosophic 
thinking, or those exquisite touches of natural feeling, 
which form the great attraction of the first. The prin- 
cipal charm will be found to consist in the idiomatic 
ease of the language, the spirit with which the lighter 
measures are struck off, and the unrivalled beauty of the 
descriptive passages ; which last are to be found in equal 
number in both parts, but are the only passages of the 
continuation which would bear transplanting without 
a ruinous diminution of effect. Besides, my own opinion 
is, that the first part will henceforth be read, as formerly, 
by and for itself; nor would I advise those who wish to 
enjoy it thoroughly, and retain the most favourable im- 
pression of it, to look to the second part at all. "Goethe's 
Faust should have remained a fragment. The heart- 
thrilling last scene of the first part, Margaret's heavenly 
salvation, which works so powerfully upon the mind, 
should have remained the last ; as indeed, for sublimity 
and impressiveness, it perhaps stands alone in the 
whole circle of literature. It had a fine effect, — how 
Faust, in the manner of the spirits that flitted round 
him, disappeared, — how mists veiled him from our 
sight, given over to inexorable Destiny, on whom, hid- 
* The Foreign Quarterly Review, No. 23, Art. 4. 



( xxi ) 



den from us, the duty of condemning or acquitting him 
devolved. The spell is now broken."* 

In Appendix, No. 2, I have given some account of 
the Story of Faust, and the various productions in art 
and literature that have grown out of it. 

Temple, January, 1834. 

P.S. It is my present intention to publish my Trans- 
lation from Savigny (originally printed for private circu- 
lation), with a prefatory sketch of the existing state of 
Legislation and Jurisprudence on the continent ; pro- 
bably, within the year. 

* Sieglitz, Sage vom Doctor Faust. 



C 



ADVERTISEMENT 

PREFIXED TO 

THE FIRST PUBLISHED EDITION. 



I commenced this translation without the slightest idea 
of publishing it, and even when, by aid of preface and 
notes, I thought I had produced a book which might 
contribute something towards the promotion of German 
literature in this country, I still felt unwilling to cast it 
from me beyond the power of alteration or recall. I 
therefore circulated the whole of the first impression 
amongst my acquaintance, and made up my mind to be 
guided by the general tenor of the opinions I might 
receive from them. I also wished the accuracy of my 
version to be verified by as many examinations as pos- 
sible, and I hoped to get some additional matter for the 
notes. " The complete explanation of an author (says 
Johnson) not systematic and consequential, but desul- 
tory and vagrant, abounding in casual allusions and 
light hints, is not to be expected from any single scho- 
liast. What can be known will be collected by chance 
from the recesses of obscure and obsolete papers (or 
from rare and curious books), perused commonly with 
some other view. Of this knowledge every man has 
some, and none has much ; but when an author has 
engaged the public attention, those who can add any- 
thing to his illustration, communicate their discoveries, 
and time produces what had eluded diligence." 
c 2 



( xxiv ) 

The result of the experiment has been so far satis- 
factory, that I am now emboldened to lay the work be- 
fore the public, with some not unimportant alterations 
and additions, suggested by subsequent inquiry or by 
friends. These, however, are all comprised in the two 
last sheets, which was the largest portion of letter- 
press I could ask the printers to keep standing so long. 
The Corrigenda list is consequently large, but it need 
give little trouble to those who do not intend to be ex- 
ceedingly critical. 

A. H* 

Temple, Feb. 25th, 1833. 



TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 

f Originally written for Private Circulation.) 



The outline of Faust's story is already familiar 
enough, and I have given all that I think neces- 
sary in the way of illustration or commentary in 
my Notes. In this place, therefore, I have princi- 
pally to explain the motives which led to the fol- 
lowing hazardous and, some may think, presump- 
tuous undertaking. 

It was first suggested to me by a remark made 
by Mr. Charles Lamb to an honoured friend of 
mine:* that he had derived more pleasure from the 
meagre Latin versions of the Greek tragedians, 
than from any other versions of them he was ac- 
quainted with. The following remarks by Goethe 
himself confirmed me in it: — 

" We Germans had the advantage that several 
significant works of foreign nations were first 
translated in an easy and clear manner. Shaks- 
peare translated into prose, first by Wieland, then 
by Eschenburg, being a reading generally intelli- 

* [The Rev. H. F. Gary, translator of Dante and Pindar.] 



( xxvi ) 



gible and adapted to every reader, was enabled to 
spread rapidly, and produce a great effect. I 
honour both rhythm and rhyme, by which poetry 
first becomes poetry; but the properly deep and 
radically operative, — the truly developing and 
quickening, is that which remains of the poet, 
when he is translated into prose. The inward 
substance then remains in its purity and fulness: 
which, when it is absent, a dazzling exterior often 
deludes us with the semblance of, and, when it is 
present, conceals."* 

These will be admitted to be very high authori- 
ties in favour of occasional prose translations of 
poetry ; and I think no one who knows " Faust" 
will deny, that it is the poem of all others of which 
a prose translation is most imperatively required, — 
for the simple reason, that it teems with thought, 
and has long exercised a widely-spread influence 
by qualities independent of metre and rhyme. 
I am not aware that I can illustrate my meaning 
better than by the following extract from a Ger- 
man Review. It forms part of a critical notice of 
a work by M. Rosenkranz, and may be taken as 

* Aus meinem Leben: Dichtung und Wahrheit. — Th. iii. b. 11. 
Hardly a single sentence of the English version, published under the 
title of Memoirs of Goethe, is to be depended upon. [The transla- 
tion of Shakspeare, mentioned by Goethe, was originally under- 
taken by Wieland, who, according to Griiber, was paid at the rate 
of two Thalem (six shillings) per sheet. He completed twenty-two 
of the plays ; which were afterwards re-published by Eschenburg 
with the rest translated by himself.] 



( xxvii ) 



a fair sample of the light in which Faust is con^- 
stantly considered in Germany: — 

" The various attempts to continue the infinite 
matter of Faust where Goethe drops it, although 
in themselves fruitless and unsuccessful, at least 
show in what manifold ways this great poem may 
be conceived, and how it presents a different side 
to every individuality. As the sun-beam breaks 
itself differently in every eye, and the starred 
heaven and nature are different for every soul- 
mirror, so is it with this immeasurable and ex- 
haustless poem. We have seen illustrators and 
continuers of Faust, who, captivated by the prac- 
tical wisdom which pervades it, considered the 
whole poem as one great collection of maxims of 
life; we have met with others who saw nothing 
else in it but a pantheistical solution of the enigma 
of existence ; others again, more alive to the genius 
of poetry, admired only the poetical clothing of the 
ideas, which otherwise seemed to them to have 
little significance ; and others again saw nothing 
peculiar but the felicitous exposition of a philoso- 
phical theory, and the specification of certain errors 
of practical life. All these are right; for from all 
these points of view Faust is great and significant ; 
but whilst it appears to follow these several direc- 
tions as radiations from a focus, at the same time it 
contains (but for the most part concealed) its pecu- 
liar, truly great, and principal direction; and this 
is the reconcilement of the great contradiction of 
the world, the establishment of peace between the 
Real and the Ideal. No one who loses sight of 



( xxviii ) 



this, the great foundation of Faust, will find him- 
self in a condition — we do not say to explain or 
continue, but even to read and comprehend the 
poem. This principal basis underlies all its parti- 
cular tendencies — the religious, the philosophical, 
the scientific, the practical ; and for this very 
reason is it, that the theologian, the scholar, the 
soldier, the man of the world, and the student of 
philosophy, to whatever school he may belong, are 
all sure of finding something to interest them in 
this all-embracing production."* 

Now I cannot help thinking that a work of 
which this, or any thing like it, can be said with- 
out appearing preposterous, deserves to be trans- 
lated as literally as the genius of our language will 
admit ; with an almost exclusive reference to the 
strict meaning of the words, and a comparative 
disregard of the beauties which are commonly 
thought peculiar to poetry, should they prove irre- 
concilable with the sense. I am not saying that 
they will prove so, for the noblest conceptions and 
most beautiful descriptions in Faust would be 
noble and beautiful in any language capable of 
containing them, be it as unmusical and harsh as it 
would, — 

" As sunshine broken on a rill, 
Though turned astray, is sunshine still. "-j- 

* I translated this very hastily from a German Journal several 
months ago. I unfortunately forgot to note down the name, but I 
think it was the Blatter fur Literarische Unterhaltung, published by 
Brockhaus of Leipzig. 

t " It would be a most easy task to prove, that not only the lan- 



( xxix ) 



Still less am I saying that such a translation would 
be the best, or should be the only one. But I 
venture to think that it may possess some interest 
and utility now; when at the distance of nearly 
half a century from the first appearance of the 
work, nothing at all approximating to an accurate 
version of it exists. With one or two exceptions, 
all attempts by foreigners (foreigners as regards 
Germany, I mean,) to translate even solitary scenes 
or detached passages from Faust, are crowded with 
the most extraordinary mistakes, not of words 
merely, but of spirit and tone; and the author's 
fame has suffered accordingly. For no warnings 
on the part of those who know and would fain ma- 
nifest the truth, can entirely obviate the deteriorat- 
ing influence of the sort of versions I am alluding 
to on the mind. " I dare say," the reader replies, 
" that what you tell me about this translation may 
be right, but the author's meaning can hardly be 

guage of a large portion of every good poem, even of the most ele- 
vated character, must necessarily, except with reference to the metre, 
in no respect differ from that of good prose, but likewise that some 
of the most interesting parts of the best poems will be found to be 
strictly the language of prose, when prose is well written." — Words- 
worth's Preface to the Lyrical Ballads. [I have taken the liberty of 
putting the exception in italics, as more than one critic has criticised 
the passage, as if no such exception had been made. The Edin- 
burgh Review (in No. 117, Art. 2,) has done the very thing which 
(in No. 115, Art. 6,) it mistakenly accuses Mr. Wordsworth of 
doing, namely, confounded poetry and prose. I beg leave to refer 
the writer in No. 117 to Montgomery's Lectures on Poetry and Lite- 
rature, Lect. 3 and 4, from which the true distinction may be 
learnt.] 



( XXX ) 



so obscured or perverted as to prevent my forming 
some notion of his powers." 

Now I print this translation with the view of 
proving to a certain number of my literary friends, 
and through them perhaps to the public at large, 
that they have hitherto had nothing from which 
they can form any estimate of Faust ; and with this 
view, and this view only, I shall prefix a few re- 
marks on the English and French translators who 
have preceded me. 

I begin with Lord F. L. Gower, whom I shall 
be obliged to criticise with greater freedom and at 
more length than I could wish ; but a combination 
of circumstances has enabled him to cast a blot on 
the fame of his original, which nothing but the 
most unsparing exposure can efface. A man of 
rank, of acknowledged taste and talent, and a pro- 
fessed student of German literature for years,* it 
was a matter of certainty that his translation would 
be read, and that many influential critics would be 
favourable to him. Accordingly, his translation 
has kept the field from the hour of its publication 
to this, to the entire suppression of many would-be 
competitors, and has been eulogized in the warmest 
terms by men whose authority stands undeniably 
high. Thus, in the review of the Second Edition 
in the Quarterly Review, it was said: — " The 
translator brought to his task a thorough know- 
ledge of the language of his original; he has had 

* I collect this from the Preface to his First Edition. 



( xxxi ) 



the courage to cope with all the perplexities of 
rhyme; and the warmth of his poetical feeling is 
as apparent in the passages we have quoted, as the 
study which he has bestowed on English language 
and versification." In Blackwood, too, the writer 
of the celebrated review of Wallenstein, after call- 
ing on men of talent to make further experiments 
on the fruitful field of genuine German tragedy, 
remarks : — " Mr. R. P. Gillies and Lord Francis 
Gower, in particular, have already shown them- 
selves to be in possession of every accomplishment 
this labour requires."* Judgments of a widely dif- 
ferent tendency have been subsequently pro- 
nounced, it is true ; but they came from party jour- 
nals and were not supported by proofs, and the 
present state of opinion as regards his lordship 
must still be very flattering, when a writer, like 
Mr. Allan Cunningham, can risk such a paragraph 
as the following: — " The German literature, with 
many brilliant things from nature, is too startling 
and grotesque, though sobered down by the taste 
of such excellent translators as Carlyle, Lord 
Francis Gower, and Coleridge." f The first of 
living critics also, A. W. von Schlegel, has awarded 

* [1 have since discovered a formal notice of Lord F. L. Gower's 
Translation in Blackwood's Magazine for July, 1823, lavishing the 
most extravagant praises on it, and quoting the worst parts in sup- 
port of them. Amongst other startling propositions is the follow- 
ing: — "Mr. Coleridge himself will not now dream of translating the 
Faust," &c. &c. &c] 

t Life of Sir Walter Scott in the Athenaeum of October 6, 1832. 



( xxxii ) 



his lordship the praise of having displayed a dis- 
tinguished talent in a very difficult undertaking;* 
a praise which, taken literally, I have no intention 
to dispute, for the translation certainly does con- 
tain individual passages of great beauty, to which 
a partial critic may confidently point. But it is as 
unfair to found a general conclusion on particular 
beauties as on particular defects; and I stand pre- 
pared to prove that, considered as a whole, Lord 
F. Gower's translation is about as unfaithful as a 
translation can be; and that, far from bringing to 
his task a thorough knowledge of the language of 
his original, he has hardly construed any two con- 
secutive pages aright. I proceed at once to esta- 
blish these assertions by proof. 

Lord F. Gower's faults are twofold — of omission 
and commission. To begin with those of the first 
kind — he has omitted the Prologue in Heaven, 
with the exception of the Angel's Song at the com- 
mencement; the Shepherd's Song, post, p. 39; the 
beautiful little Song of the Invisible Spirits, which 
follows the curse, post, p. 65; a large part of the 
scene in Auerbach's cellar; the Flower Scene, 
post, p. 139 ;f the Summer-house Scene, post, p. 

* " Von verschiedenen unsrer dichterischen original- werke sind 
geistreiche Uebersetzungen erschienen, unter denen die des Faust 
von Lord Gower ein ausgezeichnetes talent bei einem sehr schwieri- 
gen Unternehmen bewahrt." — Kritische Schriften, p. 14. Berlin, 
1824. 

t Lord F. Gower simply says, They make love. As I once heard 
a young lady remark — if it was'nt very naughty, one would like to 
know how they made it. 



( xxxiii ) 



142; and the whole of the Interlude supposed to 
be played upon the Blocksberg. The inevitable 
effect of these omissions was forcibly stated in the 
Quarterly Review: — " In one page (of the ori- 
ginal) we have Raphael and Gabriel uttering 
strains of Miltonic harmony and grandeur, in the 
hearing of all the host of Heaven. In another, 
the jabber of fiends and sorcerers in their witch- 
sabbath presents an unearthly mixture, in which it 
is impossible to draw any definite line between the 
grotesque and the ghastly, the sadness of immortal 
degradation, and the buffoonery of diabolical des- 
pair. In the midst of all this, human passions — 
love, hatred, revenge, repentance, remorse — clothe 
themselves alternately in the severest simplicity of 
idiomatic dialogue, and the softest or noblest 
strains of lyric poetry. Even mere satire — the 
satire of literature, of manners, of politics, above 
all, of philosophy, finds its place. The effect of 
so strange a medley of elements must have been 
abundantly considered by so learned an artist as 
Goethe ; and no translator can have any right to 
interfere with him by diminishing their number or 
variety." 

But besides omissions of the kind above-men- 
tioned, omissions of two, four, six, or eight lines at 
a time, are constantly occurring, to the irreparable 
injury of those fine links of association in which all 
works of genius abound, and which are not the 
less to be regarded, because (as in the case of the 
finer fibres of the human body) we are often un- 



( xxxiv ) 



conscious of their existence till they are snapped 
and the work becomes loose and lifeless for want 
of them.* What renders these omissions still 

* In Mr. Coleridge's magnificent Translation — I had almost said, 
Poem — of Wallenstein, many lines are wanting; but the fact is, 
Mr. Coleridge translated from a MS. copy before the work was 
printed, and the lines in question were added subsequently. As 
there is little hope of his undertaking Faust, I must be pardoned for 
expressing a hope that he may yet be induced to supply these defi- 
ciencies, the only deficiencies, in his work. How beautifully, for 
instance, such lines as the following would read in his rich musical 
numbers, which often, it has been truly said, affect the heart and ear 
like a spell: — 

" Der Dienst, die Waffen sind mir eitler Tand. 
So musste' es einem sel'gen Geiste seyn 
Der aus den Wohnungen der ew'gen Freude 
Zu seinen Kinderspielen und Geschaften, 
Zu seinen Neigungen und Briiderschaften, 
Zur ganzen armen Menscheit wiederkehrte." 

The Piccolomini, Act iii. sc. 3. 

" Wo aber bleibt sie denn! O ! goldne Zeit 
Der Reise, wo uns jede neue Sonne 
Vereinigte, die spate Nacht nur trennte ! 
Da rann kein Sand und keine Glocke schlug. 
Es schien die Zeit dem Ueberseligen 
In ihrem ew'gen Laufe stillzustehen. 
O ! der ist aus dem Himmel schon gefallen, 
Der an der Stunden Wechsel denken muss ! 
Die Uhr schlagt keinem Gliicklichen." 

The Piccolomini, Act iii. sc. 3. 

Several beautiful lines are also omitted in Max's last speech but 
one, Act i. sc. 4. [It is a singular circumstance connected with 
this translation, that Mr. Coleridge had in parts so far added to and 
improved upon his original, that Schiller, in subsequent editions, is 
understood to have translated from his translator.] 



( XXXV ) 



more censurable is, that in the Second and last 
Edition no notice whatever is given that any omis- 
sion of any sort has been made; and in the First 
Edition we are only cursorily informed that his 
lordship " had left sundry passages unattempted, 
from a conviction of his own inability to transfer 
their spirit to a translation, and that considerations 
of decency, also, in a few instances, prevented him 
from proceeding."* Where these omitted pas- 
sages occur, and what may be their length and 
character, the reader must find out for himself; ex- 
cept in the single instance of the Prologue, which, 
from what I can collect from his note, is one of 
the instances in which he was checked by decency. 
Again, I shall borrow some just and striking re- 
marks from the Quarterly : — " It is no great wonder 
that persons who have considered only an analysis 
such as Madame de Stael's, or a version thus in- 
complete, should, in spite of occasional passages, 
mistake the general purpose of the poet — and ac- 
cuse him of ridiculing curiosity, knowledge and 
virtue, while, in fact, he had himself taken especial 
precautions (whatever may be thought of the taste 
with which he had selected some of these) to make 
it clear to every capacity, that the only objects of 
his attack were the extravagance, restlessness, and 
misery of curiosity when directed to subjects be- 

* As the Second Edition contains much (as in the May-Day 
Night Scene) that was not in the First, the omission of this Preface 
in the Second Edition would naturally lead every one to conclude 
that there was no longer any occasion for it. 



( xxxvi ) 



yond the legitimate range of human intellect, the 
uselessness of mere knowledge divorced from wis- 
dom by the intervention of vanity, and the feeble- 
ness of that virtue which presumes to rely solely 
on itself." 

According, therefore, to the opinion of a very 
partial critic, his lordship has not merely aided in 
giving an immoral tendency to the poem he pro- 
fesses to purify, but has been, no doubt unwittingly, 
the means of fixing a stigma on the moral and re- 
ligious character of Goethe. 

I now come to faults of commission. These are 
very, very numerous, and I shall be obliged to quote 
a great many, in order to counterbalance the weight 
of authority which Lord F. Gower has been fortunate 
enough to enlist upon his side. Most of the ex- 
amples, however, are so irresistibly ludicrous, that 
I do not think the commentary will be found dull. 
All but one are taken from the Second Edition, 
published at an interval of two years from the 
First ; ample time having been thus afforded for 
the correction of mistakes. That one is the fol- 
lowing. 

In allusion to the spirits invoked by Faust (post, 
p. 46), Wagner is made to say: — 

" They feign their native home the sky, 
Assume a false gentility, 
And lisp in English when they lie." 

Patriotism compels me to say that englisck means 



( xxxvii ) 



like angels, and conveys no national reflection. 
The line, therefore, stands thus: — 

" And lisp like angels when they lie." 

It is strange that Gregory's pun, embalmed in 
Wordsworth's poetry,* did not give his Lordship a 
suspicion of the truth. 

All future references are to the Second Edition. 

In the first six lines of the Archangels' Song, 
generally considered one of the best executed parts 
of the translation, there are two slight errors and 
one glaring one: — 

" The sun his ancient hymn of wonder 
Is pouring out to kindred spheres, 
And still pursues, with march of thunder, 

His pre-appointed course of years. 
Thy visage gives thy angels power, 
Though none its dazzling rays withstand." — 

Vol. i. p. 17. 

The Sun is pouring out his hymn of wonder (as 
his Lordship is pleased to term it) with, not to, 
kindred spheres, and course of years is a very in- 
correct mode of rendering reise (journey ); but the 
thy of the fifth line is the great blunder of the 
passage, as it proves Lord F. Gower to have sup- 

* " Angli by name; and not an angel waves 

His wing, who seemeth lovelier in Heaven's eye 
Than they appear to holy Gregory." — 

Ecclesiastical Sketches. 

d 



( xl ) 



would say, no doubt, that he could not complete 
the couplet with the word (as things or realities) 
conveying the right meaning. In such cases he 
ought to annex a Nota Bene like that to the fol- 
lowing epitaph: — 

" Here lies the body of Nicholas New City, 
He died t'other day, the more's the pity! 
N.B. — The mans name was Oldtown, but it would 'nt 
rhyme." 

In the next page but one (p. 24) of his book we 
find the simple expressions den Wurme nagen — 
which worms gnaw, expanded thus: — 

" Where revelling worms peruse the store 
Of wisdom's antiquated lore." 

Can any thing be more inconsistent with the spirit 
of the scene than this conceit? There are a few 
good lines in p. 25, but all the rest of the invoca- 
tion scene is given in the weakest and most wishy- 
washy style. For example: — 

Faust. 

" Yes, I am Faust, a powerful name, 
Thy more than equal, child of flame. 

Spirit. 
I wander and range 
Through existence's change, 
Above and below, 
Through the tide and the flow, 
I shoot and I sparkle, and never am still. 



( xli ) 



Faust. 

Say, thou ever roving spirit, 
What relation can I bear to thee ? 

Spirit. 

To some other form, in another state, 
Thou mayest bear relation, 
Not to me."* 

I know not why Faust is made to declare him- 
self " a powerful name," except to justify his call- 
ing himself " more than equal," to which he does 
not pretend in the original. The six lines chaunted 
by the Spirit remind me strongly of the country- 
man, who managed to spell a word (usage) in such 
a manner {yowsitch) that not a single letter be- 
longing to it was left. But for the position of the 
lines I could not have discovered what they were 
intended for. The words which Lord F. Gower 
translates as a question — " What relation can I 
bear to thee ? " are an exclamation, " How near I 
feel to thee! " which the Spirit answers: "Thou art 
mate for (or thou resemblest) the spirit whom thou 
conceivest, not for me." To make the Spirit deny 
any relation to Faust, is in direct contradiction to 
a preceding passage, in which the relation of every 
thing to every thing is dwelt upon. But perhaps 
Lord F. Gower meant relationship ; i. e. that the 
Spirit was not uncle, aunt, grandfather, or grand- 
mother to Faust. 



* Post, p. 22. 



( xlii ) 



Two pages after, in the course of Faust's re- 
marks on elocution, we find: — 

" And must we, when we learn to speak, 
Consider how 'twould sound in Greek?" 

I doubt whether any man ever asked such a 
question before. I am sure Goethe never did. 
But this is a favourite mode of eking out a line 
with his lordship. Thus: — 

" The chemist calls it Nature's encheiresis, 
And scarce knows why, although the name from 
Greece is." — p. 108. 

" To gain the love, and learn my Greek of 
A man whom all with honour speak of." — p. 104. 

When Greece won't serve his turn, he manages to 
make shift with Rome: — 

" Confirm a story I have made, 
As how* her husband's limbs are laid 
At Padua, in a decent tomb. 

Faust. 

Fine! I must travel then almost to Rome." — 

p. 180. 

I need hardly say that there is nothing about 
Rome, Greece, or Greek in the original. At page 
32 are the lines following: — 

Wagner. 

" And yet 'tis surely neither shame nor sin 
To learn the world and those that dwell therein. 

* When Tremaine came out he was voted vulgar in the exclusive 
circles for constantly saying, As how. Behold an unimpeachable 
authority ! 



( xliii ) 



Faust. 

Yes, call it learning, if you will. 

Thus may you give each dog you meet a name, 

Tis hard to make him answer to the same.''' 1 

The literal translation {post, p. 25,) will show 
the incorrectness of this passage. Erkennen is not 
learning, and the two last lines, about the dog, are 
doggrel with a vengeance. I can hardly under- 
stand how a man of Lord F. Gower's accomplish- 
ments could bring himself to write such a couplet, 
or finish it off with the same, were it not evident 
from other passages, that he has a fancy for the 
phrase. Thus : — 

" Excuse me, Sir, I heard your voice declaim, 

And thought you read some Grecian tragedy ; 

I wished to hear and profit by the same." — p. 29. 
" I should turn godfather, and give the name 

Of Mr. Microcosm to the same. 1 " — p. 100. 
" And puts his arm around their waist, 

To see how tight the same is laced." — p. 113. 
" True, as she could, she earned the same, 

And paid her gallant with her shame." — ii. p. 12. 

A lawyer might urge the excuse of habit; nor do 
I see any thing censurable in the Irish attorney's 
challenge, " to meet him in The Fifteen Acres (a 
sort of Irish Chalk Farm) be the same more or 
less ;" but the prodigal use of it by Lord F. Gower 
is a riddle to me. 

The beginning of Faust's soliloquy (p. 34) is 
mistaken, and almost all of it will be found on 



( xliv ) 



comparison exceedingly weak. I would particu- 
larly instance the last six lines, spoken just before 
he sets the goblet to his lips: 

" In thee I ne'er shall pledge my friend again, 
Or for such rhyme the quick invention strain; 
This juice of fatal strength and browner hue, 
Would make the unfinished verses' feet too few : 
In thee the troubles of my soul I cast, 
Hail the blest drops, and drain them to the last."* 

There is nothing about unfinished verses, or 
casting troubles into the cup, in the original. 

Passing by many minor departures from the 
sense, and some singular verbal mistakes, such as 
translating krauskopf (a person who has frizzled 
or curled hair) the Old One,f and Freyer (lover 
or sweetheart) friar% — I proceed to the best of all 
conceivable tests. I will take one of the most 
splendid passages in the poem — a passage perhaps 
never equalled, and certainly never excelled, in its 
kind; one, in short, where every translator of taste 
must feel all his energies called up; and I shall 
prove that Lord F. Gower hardly understood a line 
of it. It is the passage occupying from p. 43, 1. 2, 

* p. 40, and post, p. 30. 

t p. 48, and post, p. 35. On seeing the context, I think most 
readers will agree with me, that " the Young One" would have 
been the better emendation, had it been necessary to make any. 
The line as it stands — 

" The Old One at his elbow walks to-day" — 
might give rise to an unpleasant supposition. 

J " There was a lion red, a friar bold, 

Who married lilies in their bath of gold." — p. 58. 



( » ) 



from the bottom, to p. 44, 1. 8, from the bottom, in 
my translation. Lord F. Gower has translated it 
thus : — 

" Happy in. error's sea who finds the land, 

2. Or o'er delusion's waves his limbs can buoy ; 

We use the arts we cannot understand — 
4. And what we know, we know not to employ. 

But let us not, in fancy's moody play, 
6. The moment's present raptures waste away. 

See how, from tufted trees, in evening's glow, 
8. Ere daylight sets, the cottage casements glow ; 

It sinks, the sun has lived another day, 
10. And yields to death but to recruit his fires : 

Alas ! no wing may bear me on my way, 
J 2. To track the monarch as his orb retires. 

/ watch 'd him, as he sought the west : 
14. Beneath his feet creation slept, 

Each summit blood-red bright, each vale at rest, 
16. The waveless streams like golden serpents crept. 

In vain yon mountain's arrowy pinnacle 
18. To the mind's flight opposed its precipice. 

Ocean himself retired, his billows fell, 
20. And for my path disclosed his huge abyss. 

The vision ceased, the sun's glad reign was o'er, 
22. Yet the wish died not with returning night. 

Darkness behind me, and the day before, 
24. On rush'd my soul to drink the eternal light. 

Seas roll'd beneath, and skies above me rose. 
26. Blest dream! It vanish'd in its loveliest prime. 

Alas ! no mortal wings may succour those, 
28. Which lift the mind upon its flight sublime." — 

pp. 59—61. 

I have added the numbers for the convenience of 



( xlvi ) 



reference. The leading, all-pervading, and all- 
destroying blunders of this passage will be found in 
the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth lines, where 
Faust is made simply to regret that he has no wing, 
instead of expressing that regret as a wish, and to 
say, " I watched him" instead of I should see him; 
in other words, his lordship has mistaken Ich s'dli, 
the imperfect of the subjunctive, for Ich sah, the 
imperfect of the indicative, and changed the tenses 
of all the subsequent verbs to accord. We have 
thus a vision supposed to be passing through the 
mind of the speaker as he speaks, translated as a 
description of something that was past. J ask any 
candid Englishman what he would think of a Ger- 
man who should treat one of Shakspeare's finest 
effusions in this manner. For example, Edgar's 
speech in Lear : — 

" Come on, Sir, here's the place : — stand still. — How 
fearful 

And dizzy 'twas, to cast one's eyes so low ! 
The crows and choughs that winged the midway air, 
Showed scarce so gross as beetles : Half way down 
Hung one who gathered samphire." 

But I have not half nor a quarter done with this 
passage yet; for his lordship, not content with 
killing it, has ruthlessly mutilated its parts. What 
are limbs (1. 2) brought in for? or where does his 
lordship get — 

" We use the arts we cannot understand." 



( xlvii ) 



In the tenth line — 

" And yields to death but to recruit his fires," 

it is evident that he has mistaken fordern, to pro- 
mote, for fordern, to demand. The idea presented 
is not Goethe's but Gray's — 

" To-morrow he renews his golden flood, 
And warms the nations with redoubled ray." 

And I am far from thinking that Goethe gains by 
the exchange; for it is surely much more compli- 
mentary to the sun, to suppose him rolling on in 
unfading splendour eternally, and diffusing light 
and heat as he goes, than to send him home every 
night, like a lamplighter, to fetch a fresh bottle of 
oil. The 16th line is no translation at all. The 
line it stands for is — 

" The silver brook flowing into golden streams." 

His lordship doubtless saw no meaning in it, but it 
is, notwithstanding, capable of two. It may allude 
to the gradual gilding of the waters, as the sun- 
beams come to play upon them; or to another 
natural phenomenon, which I will explain by an 
anecdote. In the summer of 1831, it was my good 
fortune to pass through the beautiful valley of 
Ahrenberg, a valley which wants but a Moore to 
make an Ovoca of it.* Whilst we w T ere changing 
horses, I walked with a German student to a rising 
ground to get a better view of the scenery. The 



* It lies on the road between Elberfeldt and Cassel. 



( xlviii ) 



setting sun was shining in such a manner, that the 
beams massed themselves on a broad part of the 
stream, and fell transversely over a tributary brook, 
thus giving a rich golden glow to the river and the 
appearance of a white silvery line to the rivulet. 
We had hardly gained the height, when my fellow 
traveller exclaimed : — 

" Den Silberbach in goldne Strome fliessen." 

In the 19th and 20th lines, all the tenses, as I have 
already intimated, are wrong, and his lordship has 
actually translated aufthun, which here means to 
open on the sight,* as if it meant to open in the 
sense of unclosing. Thus, instead of a sun-lit 
ocean — one of nature's Claudes — we have a great, 
black, ugly gulf, with whales and porpoises splash- 
ing about at the bottom of it, which the very 
Israelites would be afraid to go through without 
Pharaoh and his host at their heels. The it in 
line 26, is another unfortunate perversion of sie, 
and, in the presence instance, there is not the sem- 
blance of an excuse; for Traum {dream) being 
masculine, sie necessarily refers to the sun, which 
is represented as disappearing whilst the vision is 
passing. The word succour, in the 27th line, is 
so glaringly wrong, that it is hardly necessary to 
point attention to it. I cannot resist quoting the 
first four lines of Wagner's next speech : — 

" I have had fancies, but for such as these, 
They never troubled me, as I remember ; 

* In nautical phrase, to loom. 



( xlix ) 



I soon have gazed my fill of fields and trees, 
Envying no bird his wings, or any member" 

The words in italics are pure expletives, inserted 
with the sole object of making member rhyme to 
remember ; unless, indeed, it was intended to make 
Wagner speak in the language of English pleading, 
and deny that he envied, not merely the wings, but 
the head, breast, neck, thighs, legs, or feet of the 
bird. 

The first scene with Mephistopheles affords two 
striking illustrations of Lord F. Gower's want of 
familiarity with the commonest German words. He 
translates 

" Keines der Viere 

Steckt in dem Thiere." 
" None of the Four 

Stand in the door." 

And — 

" Ich habe jetzt dich kennen lernen." 
" I have just learnt to study you." 

The German scholar who cannot distinguish 
Thier (beast) from Thur (door), and does not know 
that kennen lernen means " to become acquainted 
with," can hardly be complimented on his pro- 
ficiency. 

From this scene, also, I shall take an example 
of the noble translator's mode of dealing with phi- 
losophical passages, where the utmost caution is 
obviously required: 

" I am a part of part, which once was at the head — 
Part of the darkness from which light was bred; 



( 1 ) 



Proud element, which now disputes the right 
His mother has to govern space in night ; 
And yet succeeds not. Struggle as he will, 
Corporeal fetters must enchain him still ; 
And, if corporeal forms he chance to meet, 
They make a shadow of him in the street. 
So, for light's sake, in duty bound I pray, 
Bodies may perish at an early day." — p. 60. 

The literal meaning may be seen, post, pp. 54, 
55, and two illustrative quotations are given in a 
note. It will there be found that, by the change of 
all into at the head, Lord F. Gower has destroyed 
the analogy which gives the passage its force. If 
darkness was at the head, light must have been 
cotemporary with it, and the " Let there be light, 
and there was light," is nonsense. The second 
line is couched in the language of Tatter-sail's, and 
would lead one to suppose that darkness was a 
brood-mare. Again, if light was bred out of dark- 
ness, it could not be an element ; and to make the 
author of the Farbenlehre represent light as being 
made a shadow of, is going a little too far. The 
two last lines, also, are glaringly wrong. Mephis- 
topheles hopes, not that bodies may perish for 
light's sake, but that light and body may perish 
together ; the phrase — " in duty bound I pray" — 
is a mere expletive, and a very ill chosen one, for it 
is not the devil's duty nor inclination to pray for the 
destruction of matter for light's sake, and he is not 
very likely to pray at all. 

The next scene, in Faust's study, is crowded 



( li ) 



with errors. I shall mention the most glaring. 
Faust's wish for death is thus given : 

" Thrice happy he, for whom, in victory's light 

Round the pale brow the gory wreath he twines, 

Whom, after dancing's mad delight, 
Lock'd in affection's arms he finds. 

Oh ! that, by such a road my soul might pass, 
And quit this wretched shivering frame." 

On turning to the original (or post, p. 63), it 
will be seen that Faust wished he had died when 
the spirit appeared to him, and that, without this 
allusion, what follows loses a considerable portion 
of its point. The curse is well translated, but it 
begins with a palpable mistake : 

" What, though remember'd music's powers 

One instant o'er my senses stole, 
And, with the forms of earlier hours, 

From frenzy's grasp recall'd my soul ! 
Still shall my curse invoke confusion," &c. 

Faust curses because remembered music's powers, 
&c. (see post, p. 64.) 

The chorus of spirits {post, p. 65,) is left out ; 
and the immediately following speech of Mephisto- 
pheles is singularly misconstrued : 

" Cease to indulge the moody pain, 

Which, vulture-like, consumes the mind : 

Bad as man is, you must remain 
A human being amid mankind. 

And yet I boast no great man's right 
To bid you bear, without relief, 
Your mental tax of silent grief." 



( lii ) 



It is sufficient to refer to the literal translation 
{post, p. 66). There is no mention of taxes; and 
I have always understood that those imposed by 
great men refer rather to matter than to mind. 

The end of Faust's speech {post, p. 67), where 
he professes his indifference as to whether there be 
an Above or Below in the other spheres, is thus 
given: — 

" And whether, of those other spheres, 
Some are below and some above." 

And where {post, p. 69,) Faust says that there 
is no fear of his breaking the contract, as what he 
promises is precisely what all his energies are striv- 
ing for, he is made to say : 

" Only no fear that I my word evade, 

To strain each nerve, to keep my faith aright, 
Is the plain substance of the vow I made." 

The notion of the substance of a vow being to 
keep the same vow, strikes me to be about as irre- 
concileable with common sense, as it certainly is 
with the sense of the original. The passage in 
which Mephistopheles tells Faust to associate him- 
self with a poet, is one mass of error : 
" I thought the burthen of the song, 
That time is short, and art is long, 
Had urged you to pursue instruction, 
By reasoning, logic, and induction. 
I deemd some poet your ally, 

With genius ever on its mettle, 
Each more resplendent quality 

Upon your honour'd head to settle : 



( liii ) 



The stag's swift foot, the lion's boldness, 

Italian fire, and German coldness. 

/ thought the bard had told us how your mind 

Cunning and magnanimity combined : 

And how, when youth's warm impulse drove, 

On system you could fall in love. 

If in my travels I should chance to see 

A man like this, the world's epitome, 

I should turn godfather, and give the name 

Of Mr. Microcosm to the same."— pp. 99, 100. 

Compare this with the original or with the passage 
(post, p. 71). In the same scene we have; 

" Euch ist kein Mass und Ziel gesetzt," 
translated by 

" Your wishes are not well defined." 
And ettenhohe SocJcen by 

" Boot-heels longer than your legs and thighs." 

These lines, also, are mistranslations : 

" The happiest he, who by the word abides, 
That leads him straight where certainty resides, 
And everlasting truth is found." — 

p. Ill, and 'post, p. 78. 

" Yet ere we mix in life refined, 
I would this beard were left behind." — 

p. 115, and post, p. 81. 

Lord F. Gower did wisely, so far as his own 
reputation is concerned, to omit the larger part of 
the scene in Auerbach's cellar; for with his unac- 
quaintance with German idioms, and evident dislike 
to what is low, he would certainly have made sad 
e 



( Hv ) 



work of it. Indeed, this is no matter of specula- 
tion, for much of the little he has attempted is 
wrong. For example : 

" What has that game-leoVd varlet here to do ?" — 

D DO 

" You seem a very easy gentleman." — p. 120. 

Altmayer. 
" I think I feel him gently brush my side.* 
Siebel. 

What ! will he, then, again among us glide, 
Our beards to burn — our threats to brave?" — 

p. 127. 

The lines with which the three last are meant to 
correspond are the fourth and fifth lines of p. 94, 
post. 

But the most extraordinary mistake is in the 
passage where one of the revellers calls on the rest 
to attack Mephistopheles, with the exclamation, er 
ist vogelfrei; literally, he is outlawed. This his 
lordship gives : 

" Thrust home cold iron — he is bullet-proof!" 

This exclamation was natural enough for the Whigs 
at Lowdon Hill, when they saw (as they said) the 
bullets recoiling from Claverhouse's buff coat and 
jack-boots like hailstones,f but it was not very 
likely to escape from boon companions in a cellar 
in the fifteenth century, who are immediately after- 
wards represented as attacking Mephistopheles with 
their knives. Perhaps the noble translator had 

* The original of this line is— 

" Ich dacht, wir hiesse ihn sachte seitw'drts gehn." 
t " Try him with the cold steel" — was the cry at every renewed 
charge — " powder is wasted on him." — [Old Mortality.) 



( Iv ) 



been to see Der Freischutz, and was thinking of 
Kngelfrei. 

I have occupied so much room already with my 
criticisms, that I must confine myself, if possible, 
to a few brief additional examples from the remain- 
ing scenes. In the Witch scene, I shall only call 
attention to two. At p. 188, Lord F. Gower makes 
Mephistopheles say, 

" By incidents like this, at least we learn, 

That poets are not quite the fools they seem." 
The observation thus perverted alludes to the 
monkeys, not to poets in general, and to some 
verses sung by the monkeys (post, p. 103), which 
his lordship has left out. The end of the witch's 
incantation : 

" This is the witch's one- times-one," 
he translates, 

" That is the witch's once go one." 

From this it is clear that he did not know that 
Einmal-Eins means Multiplication-table, for the 
literal translation would have suited equally well 
with the rhyme. The speech of Mephistopheles 
next following is badly given. In Faust's first 
speech after seeing Margaret (post, p. 110), there 
is a most ridiculous mistake : 

" As, with her gown held up, she fled, 
That well-turn'd ankle well might turn one's head !" 

The expression w r hich he supposes himself 
translating is, kur% angebunden. On looking out 
each individual word in his dictionary, Lord F. 
e 2 



( Ivi ) 



Gower would possibly find kurz, short, angebun- 
den, tied or fastened; but idioms will not bear ana- 
lyzing, and I do most respectfully assure him, that 
the two words in combination are a very common 
mode of speech to express tartness, sharpness, or 
irritability. I must say, I think it extremely hard 
on Faust, to represent him as excited by the view 
of Margaret's legs, and a little hard on Margaret 
herself, to represent her as wearing her petticoats 
so short. 

When left alone in Margaret's chamber, Faust 
gradually works himself into a passion of repent- 
ance, and resolves on giving up his enterprise; 
when, therefore, Mephistopheles appears with the 
casket, he exclaims : 

" Away, away, I return no more!" — 

meaning, that he will never come there again. 
Lord F. Gower translates it : 

" Begone yourself! for I go hence no more !" — 

The Quarterly Reviewer cites the passage with 
commendation. 

The scene in Martha's house teems with mis- 
takes. Martha is introduced by Goethe as wishing 
for a certificate of her husband's death (post, p. 122), 
to give plausibility to Mephistopheles' design of 
introducing Faust as a witness. There is also a 
lurking touch of satire in the wish. His lordship, 
however, translates: 

" Vielleicht ist er gar todt ! Oh Pern ! 
Hatt'ich nur einen Todtensche'in /" 



( I™ ) 



" Perhaps he is dead : oh sad condition ; 
Could I but see his apparition /" 

Again, at the end of the same scene (post, p. 130), 
two witnesses being necessary, Mephistopheles says 
he has a companion who will go with him before 
the judge, and proposes to introduce him to the 
ladies. It is subsequently agreed, that the intro- 
duction shall take place in Martha's garden the 
same evening. His lordship leaves out all mention 
of the judge, and concludes the scene thus : 
Martha. 

" Here in the garden he shall make his oath : 
This very evening we expect you both." 

The love-scenes, as I have said already, are 
miserably curtailed ; but enough remains to furnish 
the ordinary complement of mistakes. What can he 
mean by fixing such twaddle as this upon Goethe ? 
Margaret. 
" Yes, you are courteous, kind, and good, 
But then you come of gentle blood, 
Have many a friend of many a nation, 
And more than all this, education. 
Faust. 

Dulness, not knowledge, wrinkles oft the brow ; 
Folly will often dress at wisdom. 
Margaret. 

How?" — 
p. 185, and post, p. 131. 

She may well say, How? and I'm sure I can't 
tell her; but I think it would be better for both 
parties if Folly would leave Wisdom alone. The 



( lviii ) 



reader will find that there is nothing about gentle 
blood, education, dulness, wrinkles, or brows, in 
the original. His lordship has drawn exclusively 
upon his own resources for all these; unless the 
line about education was borrowed from — 

" When land and money all are spent, 
Then learning is most excellent." 

Which, by-the-by, was parodied by Porson, after 
swallowing the contents of the last jug upon the 
table : 

" When wine and brandy all are spent, 
Then table-beer's most excellent." 

To the following passage I request the particu- 
lar attention of those who have had the patience 
to accompany me thus far. It is taken from the 
scene in which Margaret describes the care and 
anxiety her little sister occasioned her : 

" Before its birth my father was no more, 
My mother almost gave it o'er : 
It pined, and then recovered by degrees; 
'Twas I must feed it, hold it on my knees ; 
And thus I watch'd and nurs'd it, all alone, 
And grew to look upon it as my own. 
Faust. 

How sweet your task to rear the drooping flower ! 

Margaret. 
And yet it cost me many a weary hour : 
And then, besides, to tend the house affairs — 
'Twould weary you to tell you all my cares." 

p. 187, and post, p. 136. 

A passage, occupying twenty-three lines in the 



( lix ) 



original, is here compressed into ten — a passage 
deriving its beauty exclusively from the number of 
minute particulars, and the succession of delicate 
touches, by which the picture is worked up; even 
these ten lines, too, are defaced by an unpardon- 
able mistake. Goethe, to suggest a natural reason 
for devolving the cares of a mother upon Margaret, 
makes her say that her mother was given up for 
lost and only recovered by degrees. His lordship 
transfers the lingering illness to the child. I can 
add nothing which will not suggest itself to every 
one on barely reading the literal translation. 

The passage in which Faust prays that, as it is 
his doom to be the ruin of Margaret, they may 
perish together and perish quickly, — is given with 
singular weakness (p. 198, and post, p. 140); and 
the reply of Mephistopheles — 

" Geh' ein und troste sie, du Thor!" 
literally, 

" Get in and comfort her, thou fool !" — 

is thus translated; 

" Console her — tell her things may mend." 

I am pretty nearly tired of my task, though I 
feel it a duty to go through with it. I am there- 
fore happy that I can pass over the celebrated 
answer of Faust when questioned about his reli- 
gion (post, p. 153). It will form the subject of a 
note to a forthcoming work by a friend of mine.* 

* In Mrs. Austin's Characteristics of Goethe, vol. i. p. 265 — ■ 
273, is a minute Commentary on Lord F. L. Gower's and Madame 
de Stael's versions of the passage in question. 



( Ix ) 



At the end of the scene, however, there is a new 
reading of Freyer, which deserves notice. His 
lordship now translates it magister artium. In 
the scene preceding the death of Valentine, I find 
a very ludicrous mistake. There is a German 
superstition, not unknown in other countries, that 
a blue light hovers over places where treasure lies 
hid. In allusion to this, Faust says — 

" Riickt wohl der Schatz indessen in die Hoh'? 
Den ich dorthinten flimmern seh' ?" 

His lordship translates this question and the reply 
as follows : 

Faust. 

" Say, does yon taper s light reveal 
The secret store we came to steal ? 

Mephistofheles. 
It does : and shortly you shall share, 
The treasures which are hoarded there. 
Dollars they are, all fresh and new, 
Undipped by Christian, Turk, or Jew."* 

In the dying speech of Valentine to his sister 
there is a beautiful little allegory, beginning: 

" When first Shame is born" &c. — (See post, p. 168.) 
Lord F. Gower begins it: 

" When crime is newly brought to bed /" — 
and completely spoils the allegory by changing the 
acting person or personification three times in the 
course of it. He has first, " crime," then " the 
novice," then " vice ;" from all which it seems clear 

* Post, p. 164, and see the note. 



( Ixi ) 



that, by some unaccountable mental process, his 
lordship's notions of the allegorical Shame were 
mixed up with the physical image of a young lady 
in bed — a nurse, a cradle, caudle, and pap. 

In the cathedral scene (vol. ii. p. 89, post, p. 
170) there are two unconscious mistakes, and one 
wilful one. Vergriffnen is not snatched in haste, 
—and by translating 

" In deinem Herzen, 
Welche Missethat?" 

" Is it not in thy heart, 
The blackening spot?" 

the whole force of the question is lost. The 
meaning is, which of your many crimes is more 
immediately present to you? The wilful fault is 
well-known. The scene concludes by Margaret's 
exclaiming : 

" Neighbour,* your smelling-bottle!" 

and fainting away. Lord F.'Gower finishes the 
scene thus: 

" Help me, I faint!" 

On this subject the Quarterly Reviewer observes : 
" The last exclamation is, in the original, ' Nach- 
barin, euer flaschen.' The translator probably 
thought the contrast of the awful Latin chorus, 
the whispers of a demon, and the poor Margaret 
asking the girl that kneels next to her for her 
phial, too violent — too German. But the poet 
knew what he was doing; — the effect of his three 



* Nachbarin is female neighbour. 



( Ixii ) 



bare common words is terrible. It is among the 
highest triumphs of genius to blend, without pro- 
ducing the effect of incongruity, the dream and the 
reality; and this simple girl's agonies, whether of 
love, sorrow, or despair, would have been compara- 
tively powerless, had she not been taught to utter 
them in the vivid poetry of such prose as this." 

Does not the Reviewer think it more likely for 
a fainting girl to call for a smelling-bottle than a 
phial? As to his lordship's emendation, I should 
hardly think two opinions can exist. 

In the Walpurgis-Night Scene, his lordship was 
enabled to profit by Shelley's Translation, as well 
as by the criticisms which it called forth, but he 
has not profited by them so largely as he might 
have done. To make up for the want of familiar 
modes of speech in other parts of the poem re- 
quiring them, his lordship has introduced a large 
allowance of them here. For instance, Mephisto- 
pheles says: 

" By this way we are still far from our destination." 
Lord F. Gower has it: 

" Could we hut post it, then the way were short." 

The notion of posting it over the Hartz moun- 
tains by night in the 16th century, is certainly 
original. The Will-o'the-wisp, too, is told to u turn 
link," and made to exclaim: 
" Rays, by the centre, dress ! quick march, my light !" 

as if he had been reviewing a battalion of the 
Guards. There is no warrant for any of these 



( lxiii ) 



lively effusions in the text. On referring again to 
the lines which he translates — 

" Lead us right that we may enter 
Strange enchantment's dreamy spheres" — 

Lord F. Gower will see that they had already en- 
tered. And in translating 

" Aber sag mir ob wir stehen? 
Oder ob wir weiter gehen?" 

" Tell me, tell me, shall we stay, 
Or pursue our mystic way?" 

He has copied one of Shelley's worst mistakes.* 
He has spoilt the beautiful passage beginning — 
" Hier leuchtet Glut aus Dunst und Flor" — 

in the same manner in which he has spoilt the 
allegory of Shame before mentioned. Instead of 
keeping Glut (translate it as he would) as the 
nominative throughout, he has it, first as mine- 
damp, then as mist, and then as metal. It is 
neither.f 

In the description of the effects of the storm, 
his lordship must fain introduce a prettiness : 

" Those that stand, they groan and creak, 
Their triumph o'er the storm to speak." 

Groaning and creaking would be an odd mode of 
expressing triumph, were there any triumph to 
express : but there is none. All goes down before 
the hurricane — 

" Im fiirchterlich verworrenen Falle 
Ueber einander krachen sie alle" — 



* See post, p. 175, 



t Vol. ii. p. 40, and post, p. 176. 



( lxiv ) 



or, to borrow Shelley's magnificent lines equally 
true to the required effect and to the text: 

" The trunks are crushed and shattered 
By the fierce blast's unconquerable stress. 
Over each other crack and crash they all, 
In terrible and intertangled fall." 

The music of these lines really comes upon the ear 
like the full crash of an oratorio orchestra. 

The song of the Half-Chorus of Wizards is mis- 
translated : 

" We slink like snails upon the floor, 
The women always go before. 
When all on evil ways depart 
We have a thousand paces start." 

The plain meaning is 3 that, in going to the devil, 
women are a thousand paces in advance.* Was his 
lordship ignorant that Herenmeister (the persons 
speaking) are males. The last seven lines of this 
scene are left out, and it finishes thus : 

" What's here — a playhouse? On the moral stage 
*Tis good to see the vices of the age. 
How now? a bill. 

SCRIBILIS. 

This instant will be given, 

A bran new piece, the last and best of seven." 

For the lines in italics there is no warrant what- 
ever in the text; and it strikes me as preposterous 
in the extreme to make Mephistopheles talk maud- 
lin morality on the Blocksberg. 

If anything, Lord F. Gower has taken still 

* Post, p. 178. 



( Ixv ) 



greater liberties with the single prose scene in 
Faust, than with any part, of the same length, of 
the poetry, e. g. — 

Faust. 

" Dog! bestial wretch! Change, thou Eternal Spirit, 
change his shape once more to its canine form ! make 
him become the attendant who courted and won my 
notice on my nightly path ; become the fawning thing 
who crouched before the wanderer's feet, in guise as 
harmless as that wanderer was, when first he met him. 
Yes! assume the form of his companion, his favourite, 
crawl in the sand, that with his foot he may crush thee 
into its bosom ! She not the first ! Oh ! misery, mi- 
sery ! That the woe of woman was ever such as hers ! 
that the first should not have atoned for her children 
in the eyes of all-forgiving Pleaven!" 

The sentence in italics is inserted instead of the 
allusion to the superstition explained in the note to 
my translation of the scene.* The words which his 
lordship translates by " the form of his (Faust's) 
companion, his favourite," are seine Lieblings- 
bildung, i. e. " his (Mephistopheles') favourite 
form." The confusion of persons, the perversion of 
sense occasioned by this blunder, and the incor- 
rectness of the rest of the paragraph, are suffi- 
ciently obvious. The following speech, placed 
in the mouth of Mephistopheles, is still more ob- 
jectionable: 

Mephistopheles. 
" I cannot loosen the bonds of the Avenger. I may 
not -draw his bolts. — Save her! — who was it placed her 

* Post, p. 198, and note. 



( lxvi ) 



beyond salvation? — I or thou? [Faust looks wildly 

round.'] Dost thou grasp at the thunder? Well that 

it was not given to the hand of wretched mortality to 
smite the guiltless object that crosses us. It is the true 
resource of the tyrant in distress." 

The words translated: " Who was it placed her 
beyond salvation?" are " Wer war's, der sie ins 
verderben stiirzte?" " Who was it that hurled her 
into ruin?" She was not placed beyond salvation, 
as the conclusion of the drama shows ; and to put 
such a falsehood in the mouth of Mephistopheles 
manifests, in my opinion, a radical misunder- 
standing of the character. The passage as to the 
thunder runs : " Well that it was not given to 
you, wretched mortals!" Lord F. Gower makes 
the immortal demon identify himself with that very 
mortality which he contemns. In the same scene, 
Blutschuld is translated curse of blood; lauern, 
lour; and " Mord und Tod einer Welt uber dick, 
ungeheuer," " The curse of murdered worlds upon 
thee, assassin of creation /" It is literally " Mur- 
der and death of a world upon thee, monster!" 
alluding, of course, to the temptation and fall of 
man. I defy his lordship's warmest admirers to 
suggest the shadow of an excuse for garbling the 
plain prose of one of the greatest writers of the age 
in this manner. 

The scene in which Faust and Mephistopheles 
sweep by the Ravenstone, contains six short lines. 
Lord F. Gower has mistranslated two of these. 
He translates " Eine Hexenzunff — " a witch 



( ham ) 



pastime" and " Sie streuen und, weihen" — " iliey 
float and disperse tliemselves"* 

The Quarterly Reviewer says, " The terrible 
prison scene, with which the volume closes, is ren- 
dered with fidelity, elegance, and strength." To 
the proof — 

Margaret's song is represented by these four 
lines ; 

" Now shame on my mother 
Who brought me to light, 
And foul fall my father, 
Who nursed me in spite."")* 

The exquisitely simple expressions, n Schon 
war ich auch, und das war mein Venderben," " I 
was fair, too, and that was my undoing," are ren- 
dered: 

" And yet so soon to perish by your laws, 
Once I was fair too — that was just the cause. " 

Examples of this sort of weakness abound: 
" Ich herze dich mit tausendfacher Glut." 
" With twice its former heat my love shall glow." 

Vol. ii. p. 71. 
" Stumm liegt die Welt wie das Grab. "J 

" And all are dumb, with speechless pain, 
As if they never would speak again." 

Vol. ii. p. 76. 

See also vol. ii. p. 69, from 1. 11, a passage spoilt 

* See post, p. 202. 

t See the literal translation, post, p. 203, and the note. 
$ Literally, " Dumb lies the world as the grave." 



( lxviii ) 



by the change of person and the omission of the 
exclamation " I am saved !" — and see p. 70, from 
1. 7, to the second line of p. 71. At page 74, his 
lordship gives another version of lauern. He 
translates " Sie lauern doch mir auf," " They 
glare upon me still :" and in p. 75 he shows a total 
insensibility to one of the most exquisite touches 
of nature in the scene. The literal translation is : 
Faust. 

" The day is dawning! my love ! my love ! 
Margaret. 

Day ! yes, it is becoming day ! the last day is pressing 
in. It was to be my wedding day ! Tell no one that 
thou hadst been with Margaret already* Woe to my 
garland!" 

His lordship gives it thus : 
Faust. 

" Day ! Margaret, day! your term will soon be past. 

Margaret. 
True, 'tis the day ; the last, the last ! 
My bridal day ! — 'twill soon appear ; 
Tell it to none thou hast been here" — 

i. e. in the prison. His lordship takes no notice 
whatever of the garland, which, at any rate, ought 
to have suggested the real meaning. 

Margaret's frenzied call to save her child (post, 
p. 209), is rendered thus : 

" Quick ! fly ! 
Save it, or the child will die ! 

* The allusion is still more strongly marked by the German bey 
than by the English with. 



( lxix ) 



Through the wild wood, 

To the pond ! 

It lifts its head ! 

The bubbles rise ! 

It breathes ! 

Oh save it, save it !" 

The beauty of this passage depends on the minute- 
ness of the particulars which crowd upon the poor 
girl's mind. His lordship leaves out two-thirds of 
them, and gives us, by way of recompense, his own 
logical conclusion that the child will die if it be 
not saved. But his lordship has evidently taken a 
strong dislike to this unhappy child, and resolved 
that it should neither be born, nursed, drowned, or 
buried, as the mother and the author wished and 
intended: 

" On my right breast my boy shall be ; 
Let no one else lie there but he : 
'Twere bliss with him in death to lie, 
Which, on this earth, my foes deny." 

The passage (post, p. 208), runs, " No one else will 
lie by me," not " Let no one," &c. ; and Margaret, 
not having so much as an ahndung or presentiment 
of his lordship's attempt, expresses no anxiety 
whatever as to her boy, to whom be has applied 
the apprehension she expresses about Faust. The 
Mm in the third line should therefore be altered 
into thee. 

The translator finishes his undertaking in this 
manner : 

f 



( Ixx ) 



Mephistopheles. 
" She is condemn'd ! 

Voices from above. 
Is pardon'd ! 
Mephistopheles ( to Faust). 

Hence and flee ! 
(Vanishes with Faust). 
Margaret (from within). 
Henry! Henry!" 

There being no attempt at metre or rhyme in this 
place, his lordship has no excuse for inaccuracy; yet 
every word of this conclusion, except the proper 
names and one of the stage directions, is wrong. 
Sie ist gerichtet is not She is condemned; Stimme 
is not Voices ; Sie ist gerettet is not She is par- 
doned; Her zu mir is not Hence and flee; and 
Stimme von Innen verhallend is not Margaret 
from within. Of such passages we certainly may 
say— 

Emendare liturae 
Multae non possunt, una litura potest. 

In part confirmation of my own criticism on Lord 
F. L. Gower's translation, I subjoin an extract 
from Dr. Granville's Travels, in which the opinion 
of Goethe himself is communicated : 

" He (Goethe) conversed in French, and occasionally 
in English, particularly when desirous to make me un- 
derstand the force of his observations on some recent 
translations of one or two of his works into that lan- 
guage. Faustus was one of these. The translation, 
by the present noble Secretary for Ireland, of that sin- 
gular dramatic composition, which for beauty of style 



( lxxi ) 



and ingenuity of contrivance, leaves the old play of the 
same name, by Marlowe, far behind, seemed not to 
have given satisfaction to the veteran author. He ob- 
served to me, that most assuredly it was not a transla- 
tion, but an imitation of what he had written. ' Whole 
sentences,' he added, ' have been omitted, and chasms 
left in the translation, where the most affecting passages 
should have been inserted to complete the picture. 
There were, probably, difficulties in the original, which 
the noble translator might not be able to overcome; 
few foreigners, indeed, can boast of such mastery of 
our prodigal idiom, as to be able to convey its meaning 
with equal richness of expression, and strength of con- 
ception, in their own native language ; but in the case 
of the translation to which I allude, that excuse for 
imperfection does not exist in many of the parts which 
Lord Francis Gower has thought proper to omit. No 
doubt, the choice of expressions in the English transla- 
tion, the versification, and talent displayed in what is 
original composition of his lordship's own well-gifted 
mind, may be deserving of his countrymen's applause, 
but it is as the author of Faustus travesti, and not as 
the translator of Goethe's Faustus, that the popular 
applause has been obtained.' 

" The patriarch poet seemed far more satisfied with 
the translation of another of his beautiful dramas, the 
Tasso, by Mr. Devaux.* He said, ' I understand 

* (Note by Dr Granville). — " I have not been able to meet with 
this translation, and I give the translator's name as it was pronounced 
by Goethe, and without knowing the correct spelling of it." 

[The author of the translation in question (published by Longman 
and Co. in 1827) was Mr. Charles Des Voeux, a man of talent 
and accomplishment, formerly attached to one of the German em- 
bassies. He died some months since, leaving a corrected copy of 

f 2 



( lxxii ) 



English a ma mamere quite sufficient to discover in 
that gentleman's recent translation, that he has ren- 
dered all my ideas faithfully, Je me lisois moi-meme 
dans la traduction. It is for the English to determine, 
if, in adhering faithfully to the ideas of the German 
original, Mr. Devaux a conserve les regies et na pas 
trahi le genie de sa langue. Je nen snis pasjuge; peut- 
etre le trouvera-t-on un peu trop Allemand.'' 

The next attempt to bring the English public ac- 
quainted with Faust on which I think it necessary 
to comment, is a publication entitled: " Faustus, 
from the German of Goethe. Embellished with 
Retzsch's Series of Twenty-seven Outlines, illus- 

his work in the care of the amiable and elegant-minded Madame de 
Goethe, to be printed at Weimar for private circulation only. In 
the new edition, so far as I can judge from a cursory reading, the 
un-English turn of expression, which was certainly in some measure 
chargeable against the first, has been sedulously removed, and the 
translation, which could always boast the high merit of fidelity, 
may now be read with pleasure even by those who have learnt to 
appreciate the delicate beauty of the original. Indeed, I do not 
think that Madame de Goethe (who possesses an exquisite taste in 
English composition, and an acquaintance, almost unprecedented in 
a foreigner, with our literature) could have been induced, even by 
motives of friendship, to interest herself in the work, did it not bear 
about it many undeniable tokens of excellence. 

In the New Monthly Magazine for this month (January, 1834), 
Mrs. Hemans has commenced a series of " German Studies" by a 
paper on the Tasso, which has only one fault— it is too short. Her's 
seems truly a congenial spirit : not a ray of fancy, not a spark of 
fire, not a burst of feeling, nor a touch of art, will be permitted to 
evaporate ; or if one should evaporate, it is sure to be replaced by 
something as gay, as bright, as glowing, or as exquisite of her own. 
Surely then she will not persevere in her present plan of compressing 
five-act dramas into eight-page articles.] 



( lxxiii ) 



trative of the Tragedy, engraved by Henry Moses." 
This title is a deceptive one. It ought to stand 
" Retzsch's Series &c. explained by Extracts, &c.;" 
for the illustrations are the principal, and the text 
the accessary. The anonymous author, however, 
to judge from the preface, would be very far from 
consenting to any transposition of the kind: 

" It is not pretended that the following pages 
contain a full translation of this celebrated drama. 
The slight analysis drawn up as an accompaniment 
to Retzsch's Outlines being out of print, the pub- 
lishers felt desirous to supply its place with a more 
careful abstract of ' Faust,' which, while it served 
as a book of reference and explanation for the use 
of the purchasers of the plates, might also possess 
some claims to interest the general reader as an 
independent publication. With this view the most 
striking passages and scenes of the original have 
been translated into blank verse, and connected by 
a detailed description in prose, in which the writer 
has aimed at nothing more than to render the pro- 
gress of the plot clearly understood. Some parts 
are omitted which, it was thought, would be of- 
fensive to English readers, from the free and occa- 
sionally immoral tendency of the allusions which 
they contain; other parts of the scene have been 
thrown into narrative, where the difference of taste 
subsisting between the two nations would have 
rendered a clear translation of that which in Ger- 
many is considered sublime, in our language ludi- 
crous : the general features of the whole have, 



( lxxiv ) 



nevertheless, been endeavoured to be preserved. 
The original is written in a great variety of metres, 
but in confining himself to blank verse in all parts 
of the play, except those which are strictly lyrical, 
the translator believes that he has adopted the only 
measure that would enable him to imitate the tone 
without sacrificing the sense of his text. 

" Faust is preceded by a prelude between the 
manager, author, and a kind of merry fellow or 
clown. This is nothing more than an introductory 
dialogue, like that to Gay's Beggar's Opera, and 
as it bears no relation to the plot of the piece, has 
not been translated. For a different reason the 
prologue has also been passed over: it carries the 
scene to heaven, whither Mephistopheles ascends 
for the purpose of obtaining permission to tempt 
Faustus ; and, both in conception and execution, is 
repugnant to notions of propriety, such as are 
entertained in this country." 

The statement marked by italics is too broad; 
he has not so much as attempted the most striking 
passages and scenes, nor a third of them; though, 
for aught I know, he may fancy that he has, for 
his taste seems a very peculiar one. I must be 
excused, however, for not entering into a detailed 
disproof of his statements ; nor can I spare room for 
a recapitulation of his mistakes. But as the work 
certainly shows talent enough to acquire it some 
portion of authority, I shall give brief examples 
of the mode in which it is this gentleman's pleasure 
to connect, translate, describe, and purify Faust. 



( lxxv ) 



In the first garden scene, after translating down 
to that part of Margaret's description of her do- 
mestic anxieties where Faust interrupts her by an 
exclamation (post, p. 136), the writer continues in 
this manner: 

" Faustus, 
If she resembled you, she was an angel. 

Margaret. 

One moment stay. — ( She gathers a flower and plucks 
the leaves off one by one.)" 

- There is^nothing, not so much as an asterisk, to 
mark that any thing intervenes between these lines, 
though, in fact, the words given to Faust belong to 
the middle of one scene, and those given to Mar- 
garet to the middle of another, whilst a whole 
dialogue (between Martha and Mephistopheles) 
intervenes between the two. Here is one of his 
descriptions : 

" Faustus replies to this interrogatory (as to his 
religion, post, p. 153) by one of those mystical 
definitions of belief in God which characterize the 
professors of natural religion. Margaret, however, 
notwithstanding her girlish simplicity, has too much 
good sense to be imposed upon by general pro- 
fessions of faith calculated to cover any kind of 
religious creed. She tells him he has no Christi- 
anity, and, desirous apparently to turn from so 
unpleasant a subject, she then changes the conver- 
sation, and then expresses her dislike to her lover's 
constant companion, Mephistopheles." 



( lxxvi ) 



I could give instances of mistranslation by scores. 
I shall content myself with one: 

" Der Erde Mark mit Ahnungsdrang durchwiihlen." 
" Rooting from out thee every trace of earth." 

Perhaps it is not possible to translate Ahnungs- 
drang literally, but the writer who is not familiar 
enough with the difficulty to avoid such a blunder 
as this, can know next to nothing of Faust. The 
conclusion of the cathedral scene, in which the 
writer coincides with Lord F. Gower, is a fair ex- 
ample of his mode of erasing the ludicrous : 

" Margaret (to a bystander J. 
Help, neighbour ! oh ! support me." 

Germany and England may not always agree in 
their estimate of sublimity, but Lord F. Gower and 
this gentleman will find upon inquiry, that this 
notable emendation of their's is pretty generally 
regarded as a fair specimen of the ludicrous in both 
countries. 

With regard to the accusation of indecency, I 
have only to say, that, when Mrs. Austin's Selec- 
tions shall have superseded the Old Testament — 
which, if any selections could produce such a 
catastrophe, they would — and Mr. Bowdler's 
Shakspeare shall be the only Shakspeare on our 
shelves, I shall be quite ready to admit that Faust 
deserves to be excluded from general perusal for 
indecency. But not till then; for the whole poem 
does not contain a fifth part of the condemned 
expressions or allusions to be found in any two 



( lxxvii ) 



books of the Pentateuch, or any two acts of 
Othello, Hamlet, or Lear; and (confining this ob- 
servation to Shakspeare) I am sure the purpose 
is equally pure. I say so much in reply to the 
objection urged, as I have now and then heard it, 
by men of feeling and taste, who understood what 
they were talking about. As for this writer, the 
indecency he complains of is his own : for example, 
he thus alludes to the song sung by Margaret at 
the commencement of the prison scene : " A voice 
is heard within, singing a rude ballad, so gross as 
to indicate insanity." The song, like Ophelia's, 
was intended to indicate insanity, and would not be 
grosser than that, did it mean what this gentleman 
thinks it does, which it does not. I appeal to the 
literal translation (post, p. 203) and the note. This, 
by the way, is a good example of the necessity of 
illustrative notes. Until the analogy to the fable 
was made known, I never met with any one who 
did not misconstrue the sixth line of the song. 
I add one example more : 

" Faustus. 

Cursed villain ! 

Begone : name not that lovely creature : — do not 
Invite my half-infuriated senses 
To wish her mine again. 

Mephistopheles. 

What then must be 
The sad result ? She thinks you have forsaken her ; 
And so you have almost. 



( lxxviii ) 



Faustus. 

Nay, I am near her ; 
And were the winds and waves a barrier 'twixt us, 
I never can forget her, ne'er forsake her. 

Mephistopheles. 
Well, my friend, often have I envied you 
Beneath the roses, like two twins embracing. 
Faustus. 

Away, base pander ! 

Mephistopheles. 

Ah ! you abuse me : I must laugh ; 
Now 'tis great pity — you shall once more enter 
Her chamber, not to death. 

Faustus. 

What joy, 
What heavenly joy is in her arms!" 

This the reader will have the goodness to ob- 
serve is a castigated passage, five or six lines 
having been omitted.* But it is, notwithstanding, 
indubitably true that all the coarseness discovera- 
ble in it, as given above, is attributable to a most 
ridiculous mistake. He actually supposes, and 
would lead those of his readers who do not know 
better to suppose, that the ruin of Margaret had 
been already consummated! What, then, did he 
suppose to be Mephistopheles' object in inflaming 
the passions of Faust? I once heard of an attorney, 
who sent a young lady to get herself seduced again, 
that the action might be more surely maintainable ; 
and perhaps the translator thought that Margaret's 



* Post, p. 149. 



( lxxix ) 



mother had employed the devil to procure evidence 
against Faust. 

Of the power manifested in the unfinished frag- 
ments left by Shelley, few think or speak more 
highly than myself; and I quite agree that nothing 
but a few months' study of German was wanting 
to make him fully equal to an adequate translation 
of Faust; but yet — 

( But yet is as a gaoler, to bring forth 
Some monstrous malefactor,) 

it must not be forgotten that they are unfinished 
fragments, and that Shelley was far from perfect in 
the language he was translating from; and no ad- 
miration of his genius, no respect for his memory, 
ought to prevent our saying that he has not done 
justice to Faust, if it can be clearly made to appear 
that he has not. I shall, therefore, point out the 
principal errors by which the general effect of his 
translation is impaired. They will be found to be 
something more than specks in the sun ; but if not, 
it is surely a fact worth noticing, that the sun has 
specks. 

The fragments in question consist of the Pro- 
logue in Heaven, and the May-day Night scene. 
The first has no great merit, and few considerable 
mistakes, though quite enough to show the trans- 
lator's want of familiarity with German. He has 
furnished us with the means of bringing this to an 
indisputable test by appending a literal translation 
of the Archangels' song to the poetical one. Now 



( lxxx ) 



in the first stanza he translates Reise — circle, and 
herrlich — excellent; and in the second there are 
two palpable mistakes : 

" And swift, and inconceivably swift 
The adornment of earth winds itself round, 
And exchanges paradise-clearness with deap, dread- 
ful night. 
The sea foams in broad waves 
From its deep bottom, up to the rocks, 
And rocks and sea are torn on together 
In the eternal swift course of the spheres." 

The words in italics are wrong, and I see no reason 
for translating Pracht — adornment. There are 
three errors in the following : 

Mephistopheles. 

" Well and good. 
I am not much in doubt about my bet ; 
And if I lose, then 'tis your turn to crow. 
Enjoy your triumph then with a full breast. 
Ay ! dust shall he devour, and that with pleasure, 
Like my old paramour, the famous snake. 

The Lord. 
Pray, come here when it suits you." 

To make The Lord give this general invitation to 
Mephistopheles, is a fault which it is impossible 
to palliate, and the two others are sufficiently 
gross. — (See post, pp. 14, 15.) 

He also translates " mit dauernden Gedanken" 
with sweet and melancholy thoughts, which is not 
merely at variance with the letter but with the 
spirit of the text. The following mistranslations 
occur in the May-day Night scene : 



( lxxxi ) 



Mephistopheles says to the will-o'th'-wisp, 

" Ei ! Ei ! er denkt den menschen nachzuahmen." 

Shelley translates it : 

" Ha ! ha ! your worship thinks you have to deal 
With men." 

The following passage contains two mistakes, 
which greatly injure the effect of the scene : 

" Tell me, shall we go or stay 1 
Shall we onward ? Come along : 
Every thing around is swept 
Forward, onward, far away ! 
Trees and masses intercept 
The sight." 

As I have remarked already in my commentary 
on Lord F. Gower, it is not shall we, but do we. 
The words translated — which intercept the sight, 
are — die Gesichter schneiden, literally, which cut 
(in the sense of make) faces. As well might a 
foreigner translate the English idiom to cut capers 
literally. There is a striking mistake in this pas- 
sage : 

" Stick with the prong, and scratch with the broom, 
The child in the cradle lies strangled at home, 
And the mother is clapping her hands." 

Instead of clapping her hands, the mother bursts 
(platzt).* The semi-choruses of wizards are mis- 
translated : 



* See post, p. 178. 



( lxxxii ) 



Semi-chorus of Wizards 1. 

" We glide in 
Like snails when the women are all away ; 
And from a house once given over to sin, 
Woman has a thousand steps to stray. 

Semi-chorus 2. 
A thousand steps must a woman take 
Where a man but a single spring will make."* 

He translates — 

" Und wenn wir um den Gipfel ziehn 

So streichet an dem Boden hin" — 
" We cling to the skirt, and we strike on the ground." 

Gipfel, which he translates skirt, is peak or pin- 
nacle. I need hardly add that the whole line is 
wide of the mark. (See post, p. 179.) 

The stage direction — zu einigen, die um ver- 
glimmende Kohlen sitzen, is translated, " to some 
old women' &c, and Mephistopheles is made to 
say: 

" Old gentlewomen, what do you do out here ? 
You ought to be with the young rioters, 
Right in the thickest of the revelry — 
But every one is best content at home" 

It begins " Ihr alten Herrn," so that I suppose 
some joke is intended by the change of sex; though, 
if so, it is but a poor one. The last line is pal- 
pably wrong : so also are the replies of the Parvenu 
and the Author, which follow.f The most extra- 
ordinary blunder, however, is in the speech of the 
Pedlar-witch : 



See post, p. 178. 



t Post, p. 182. 



( lxxxiii ) 



Pedlar-witch. 

" Look here, 
Gentlemen ; do not hurry on so fast 
And lose the chance of a good pennyworth. 
I have a pack full of the choicest wares 
Of every sort, and yet in all my bundle 
Is nothing like what may be found on earth ; 
Nothing that in a moment will make rich 
Men and the world with fine malicious mischief ; — 
There is no dagger drunk with blood ; no bowl 
From which consuming poison may be drained 
By innocent and healthy lips ; no jewel 
The price of an abandon'd maiden's shame ; 
No sword which cuts the bonds it cannot loose, 
Or stabs the wearer's enemy in the back ; 
No—."* 

It is difficult to account for a man of Shelley's 
fine taste making so extraordinary a blunder as 
this.f Faust's description of Procktophantasmist 
is mistranslated, and there is an omission in the last 
speech of Mephistopheles, which were alone suf- 
ficient to show in how unfinished a state this frag- 
ment must have been left. The line — 

" Hier ist's so lustig wie im Prater," 

literally 

" It is as merry here as in the Prater ;" 
is given thus : 

" It is as airy here as in a ( )" 

* Post, p. 183. 

t I rather think that the line 

" Dem keiner auf der Erde gleicht," 
put him on the wrong scent. Lord F. Gower has mistaken it too. 



( lxxxiv ) 



Had the manuscript been any thing more than a 
rough copy, such a blank as this would surely have 
been filled up.* 

I cannot conclude this commentary on preceding 
translators of Faust without paying my humble 
tribute of admiration to the striking merit of some 
passages which appeared in the thirty-ninth number 
of Blackwood's Magazine. A good half of these 
were loosely and carelessly executed, as if the 

* Mr. Leigh Hunt permits me to print the following extract 
from a note of his to myself, interesting both on account of the 
writer and the subject of it: — "I was away from my friend, in 
another countiy, when he began to read German ; and my impres- 
sion is, that he did not make any very long or extensive acquaint- 
ance with the literature : only what he did read, he would read ex- 
quisitely, and with a thorough knowledge of the meaning, making it 
a point to have a perfect understanding of the letter, in order that he 
might leave nothing unperceived of the spirit. Of the particular 
state in which the manuscript was left, I have no recollection, 
except that a few passages were not filled up." It is much to 
be regretted that we have no regular life of Shelley. The notices 
in the New Monthly are excellent, but Shelley's calumniated me- 
mory demands an avowed biographer. Another book in pari materia 
much wanted, is a full Essay on the Life and Writings of Hazlitt. 
An accomplished friend of mine — the writer of the account of Hazlitt 
which appeared about a year ago in the Examiner — is the man for it. 
though I fear his brilliant and well-merited success at the bar must 
now tear him away from literature. Fortunately he has already done 
enough to show that forensic and literary pursuits, far from being 
incompatible, do actually co-operate with and promote each other 
in minds capable of the higher order of cultivation and wide enough 
to embrace two objects at a time. 

A few remarks on the Hartz scene are contained in Mr. Leigh 
Hunt's book on Lord Byron and his cotemporaries, a book which 
T for one believe to be scrupulously honest ; nor can I discover 
that the author was under any obligation, pecuniary or otherwise, 
which should prevent his dissecting Lord Byron's character when 
this had become necessary for the vindication of his own. 



( lxxxv ) 



writer felt that he was writing anonymously and 
for a magazine ; # but I should assign him the 
next place to Shelley, did his precedence depend 
upon me. 

It is generally supposed in this country that 
German literature is little cultivated in France. 
It would not be easy to reconcile this with the fact, 
that, besides the abstract given in Madame de 
Stael's Germany, there are no less than three 
French prose translations of Faust, all apparently 
by men of learning and ability. But no learning 
or ability can overcome the difficulties which the 
peculiar character of the French language presents ; 
and they have all shown themselves hopelessly in- 
capable of conveying anything like a correct notion 
of the work. 

The translations in question are by M. le Comte 
de Sainte-Aulaire, M. Albert S*** (Stopfer), and 
M. Gerard.f I cannot introduce the little I have 
to say about them better than by an extract from 
M. de Sainte-Aulaire's Preface. His remarks will 
well repay the trouble of perusal, independently of 
their bearing upon Faust : 

" Independamment de la nature de ces conceptions, 
le caractere de la langue allemande ajoute encore au 
vague pour lequel ces auteurs sont vantes ou critiques. 

* In the passage quoted ante, p. xxiv, he makes the same mistake 
as Lord F. Gower : 

" Erst have I seen by evening's heavenly light," &c. 

t A feigned name, and I am told that the writer wishes to pre- 
serve his incognito. 



g 



( lxxxvi ) 



" La richesse de la langue, la liberte des inversions, 
la liberte plus grande de composer des mots nouveaux, 
et dont le sens n'est consequemment pas encore defini, 
toutes des facilites dont le genie sait tirer un si grand 
parti, sont quelquefois aussi pour lui-meme une seduc- 
tion dangereuse. 

" La phrase allemande, d'une longueur demesuree, 
est, pour ainsi dire, elastique ; elle recoit tout ce qu'on 
veut y faire entrer. A force de l'enrichir d'epithetes, 
de multiplier les nuances, de la charger de parentheses, 
il arrive quelquefois que l'ordre et la clarte sont com- 
promis. L'exuberance des mots altere la precision 
du sens ; le traducteur, dans un veritable embarras de 
richesses, trouve plus qu'il ne lui faut pour une seule 
pensee ; il en apercoit plusieurs la ou l'auteur n'a 
voulu en exprimer qu'une seule, et il lui est difficile 
de faire un choix, parce que toutes sont implicitement 
comprises dans paroles qu'il doit traduire. 

" La langue francaise repousse cette surabondance 
avec du modeste dedain. Elle considere comme son 
premier devoir, ou plutot comme son plus beau privi- 
lege, une precision parfaite. Un homme d'etat disait, 
en parlant de documens diplomatiques : ' Tout ce qui 
est clair est francais, tout ce qui est obscur est alle- 
mand.' C'est qu'en efTet il est exact de dire, gramma- 
ticalement parlant, tout ce qui n'est pas clair n'est pas 
francais. Cet avantage de notre langue, immense dans 
son application aux affaires, est peut-etre moins apreciable 
dans la poesie. Sans pretendre decider cette question, 
je dirai seulement que 1'attention necessaire pour saisir 
la pensee du poete a travers le vague des expressions, 
la difficulte de reconnaitre les formes surchargees de 
magnifiques draperies, cette difficulte, dis-je, maintient 



( lxxxvii ) 



1'esprit du lecteur dans une activite favorable aux 
beautes poetiques. Elles sont peut-etre plus vivement 
senties lor squ elles nous apparaissent couvertes (Vun voile, 
et faiblement eclairees, que si des Vabord nous avions tout 
vu, tout compris. 

" Mais encore faut-il que la pensee sorte en fin des 
tenebres, que Intelligence puisse la reconnaitre et la 
saisir. S'il est possible de soutenir que le vague des ex- 
pressions est quelquefois un moyen d'effet pour le poete 
habile, il serait absurde d'attribuer un avantage quel- 
conque au vague de la pensee. Cette locution meme, 
pensee vague, est une logomachie. Tout assemblage de 
mots doit repondre a une perception parfaitement claire 
de 1'esprit : une pensee n'est pas plus ou moins claire ; 
si elle ne l'est pas parfaitement, ou ne peut le devenir 
au moyen d'une exacte analyse, elle n'est plus une 
pensee, et les paroles dont elle s'enveloppe ne sont que 
du galimatias. 

" Ainsi l'obligation de penser clairement tient a la 
nature des choses ; elle est egalement imposee aux 
poetes de tous les temps, de tous les pays. L'obliga- 
tion de parler clairement est surtout imposee aux ecri- 
vains francais : aucune excuse ne peut les en dis- 
penser ; aucune beaute ne raeheterait le reproehe d'ob- 
scurite. Le genie de la langue francaise se refuse invinci- 
blement d ces constructions embarrassees, d ces expressions 
indeterminees, aux moyens desquelles plusieurs sens se lais- 
sent presser sous une meme enveloppe. Enfin, si ce que ne 
presente aucun sens n'est pas du langage, ce qui pre- 
sente plusieurs sens n'est pas du francais. 

" C'est d'apres ces deux idees que j'ai travaille a 
la traduction de cet ouvrage ; j'ai du renoncer a tra- 
duire plusieurs passages, et notamment deux scenes 
g2 



( lxxxviii ) 



assez etendues, parce qu'il m'a ete impossible de les 
comprendre. Un grand nombre de phrases ne me 
presentaient aucun sens, et l'intention generale de la 
scene ne pouvait me mettre sur la voie ; car il m'etait 
egalement impossible de la decouvrir. On trouvera 
ces deux scenes dans les notes : je les emprunte a la 
traduction d'un jeune litterateur plein de merite, qui 
n'a pas ete rebute par des difficultes contre lesquelles 
je n'ai pas eu le courage de hitter. J'ajouterai meme 

que l'essai de M. Albert S a ete pour moi un 

nouveau motif de decouragement : j'ai reconnu dans sa 
traduction une parfaite connaissance de la langue alle- 
mande. Tout ce qui a un sens a ete saisi et traduit ; 
cependant l'ensemble ne me parait pas beaucoup plus 
clair en franpais qu'en allemand. 

" Dans le reste de l'ouvrage, j'ai souvent rencontre 
des passages qui me laissaient incertain sur leur sens 
veritable, parce que la construction de la phrase, et la 
signification indeterminee des mots, rendaient plusieurs 
interpretations possibles. En ce cas, j'ai cru, avant 
tout, devoir parler francais ; je me suis attache a ne 
laisser subsister dans la traduction aucune des incerti- 
tudes que je trouvais dans 1' original, et j'ai tout subor- 
donne d, I 'expression claire et precise du sens que j'avais 
choisi"* 

As well might a painter say : — " The moon looks 
best when struggling through clouds, and it was 
my duty to paint her surrounded by them. But I 

* Chefs d'CEuvres du Theatre Allemand, Goethe, vol. i. p. 27 — 30. 
This collection contains prose translations by different hands of all 
the other principal dramas (Goetz von Berlichingen, Tasso, Egmont, 
Iphigenia, &c. &c.) of Goethe. 



( lxxxix ) 



had no paint fit for clouds in my box; therefore 
I have painted her without any, and, therefore, my 
duty is performed." 

The only wonder to me is, that M. Sainte- 
Aulaire was not led to the almost inevitable con- 
clusion, that it is impossible to translate Faust into 
French. I can forgive him all his other fallacies for 
the sake of the language he has clothed them in, 
and the truth of some of the individual remarks. 
Acting on the above theory, he has given a clever 
and spirited, but vague and loose, paraphrase of 
the poem, instead of a translation of it ; invariably 
shunning the difficulties which various meanings 
present, by boldly deciding upon one, instead of 
trying to shadow out all of them — which I regard 
as one of the highest triumphs a translator can 
achieve — and avoiding the charge of incorrectness 
by making it almost impossible to say whether the 
best construction has suggested itself or not. I 
will give two or three examples of the mode in 
which he plays with the text. He thus translates 
the lines towards the end of the Prologue in 
Heaven, beginning " Doch ihr die achten Gbt- 
tersohne," &c* 

" Vous veritables enfans de Dieu, vivez heureux ; 
contemplez la beaute celeste ; dans votre activite crea- 
trice, aimez la regie et les limites, et soumettez a, 
l'epreuve de la sagesse les fantomes que de vagues 
desirs vous presentent." 

In a note to this passage I have stated the diffi- 



* Post, p. 15, 1. 9. 



( xc ) 



culties presented by it, but I have no difficulty in 
saying that M. de Sainte-Aulaire's reading is gla- 
ringly wrong. 

Again — the passage, post, p. 25, which I have 
also made the subject of a note, is thus given : — 

*' Au premier coup d'oeil le livre tombe des mains ; 
on dirait une friperie, un magasin de vieux meubles : 
tout ou plus, vous croyez voir des marrionnettes en 
action qui debitent avec emphase des maximes solen- 
nelles." 

He thus paraphrases the passage in which Faust 
describes his father's alchymical pursuits and the 
composition of his physic : — 

" Entoure de quelques adeptes, il s'epuisait sur ses 
fourneaux ; il croyait ses remedes infallibles : les ma- 
lades avalaient et mouraient, sans que personne mit son 
savoir en doute." 

The whole description of the physic-making 
process is left out: " J'ai cm devoir debarrasser 
le texte de ce jargon d'alchimie ;" of which he did 
not understand a syllable. He has left out several 
other passages, peculiarly illustrative of the genius 
of Goethe, on the same principle.* 

Not content with substituting his own meaning 
for the author's, whenever there is the least shadow 
of a doubt, he frequently follows a most extraordi- 
nary method of translation where there is none. 
For example : — 

* The whole of the passage, (post, p. 50), in which Faust specu- 
lates on the meaning of the Xoy og is excluded from the text. 



( xci ) 



" Le texte porte : ' Les esprits qui merit.' J'ai tra- 
duit : ' Les esprits des tenebres f parce que nier la verite, 
qui est lumiere, e'est affirmer le mensonge, c'est entrer 
dans les tenebres."* — (Note (2) to p. 45.) 

At this rate it is a translator's duty to give the 
conclusion to be deduced from a proposition instead 
of the proposition itself. At the same time we 
must not condemn M. de Sainte-Aulaire too hastily; 
for the other French translators, who profess to be 
literal, have not been more successful than himself, 
except in making their occasional mistakes more 
palpable. The following examples will exemplify 
the mode in which MM. Stapfer and Gerard ex- 
press what they understand, and replace what they 
do not. The passage beginning — 

" Mit segenduftenden Schwingen — "\ 
is given by M. Stapfer thus : — 

" Quelle rosee delicieuse elles repandent sur la terre 
aride, et quelle ravissante harmonie le battement de 
leurs ailes imprime aux espaces du monde, qu'elles 
parcourent incessamment," 

The alV das All durchklingen is here totally 
sunk. The specimens next following are also 
from M. Stapfer: — 

" Schon gliih' Ich wie von neuem Wein." 
(£ On dirait qu'une liqueur spiritueuse coule dans 
mes veines et me brule." 

" Such' Er den redlichen Gewinn, 
Sey Er kein schellenlauter Thor!" 



* Post, p. 16. 



t Post, p. 20. 



( xcii ) 



" Laisse-la ces folies, et clierche a gagner ton pain 
honnetement." — (See post, p. 24.) 

" Drum frisch ! Lass alles Sinnen seyn, 
Und g'rad' mit in die Welt hinein ! " 
" Allons done, laisse en paix tous tes sens, et en 
route avec eux dans ce raonde ! " 

In the scene at the well Margaret says : — 

" Und segnet' mich und that so gross, 
Und bin nun selbst der Siinde bloss. 
Doch-alles was dazu mich trieb. 
Ach war so gut ! ach war so lieb ! " 

It is given — 

" Et je me signais, et je faisais le signe aussi grand 
que possible . . . Et maintenant je suis le peche merae. 
Helas, tout m'y a entraine. Dieu ! il etait si bon ! il 
etait si amiable ! " * 

The following are from M. Gerard — 

" Verfluchtes, dumpfes Mauerloch." 
" Miserable trou de souris." — (See post, p. 18.) 

" Schon gliih' Ich wie von neuem Wein — " 
" Deja je petille comme une liqueur nouvelle." 

" Ja, kehre nur der holden Erdensonne, 
Entschlossen deinen Riicken zu ! " 
" C'est en cessant d'exposer ton corps au doux 
soleil de la terre." 

This line occurs, post, p. 29, 1. 21. No one after 
reading the passage will require any additional 
examples. 

* Compare post, p. 160. 



( xciii ) 



In the literary portions of her Germany, Madame 
de Stael is generally understood to have received 
a sort of aid* which ought to have rendered her 
pretty nearly infallible. Her chapter on Faust, 
however, is remarkably inaccurate, and proves 
most conclusively, that she had only a very super- 
ficial acquaintance with the work ; though some of 
her detached observations are admirable. " It is 
lucky for Goethe," says J ean Paul, " that important 
omissions prevent frivolous translations in her 
book. This devilish tragedy, resembling the 
Divine Comedy of Dante, in which whole worlds 
of spirits play and fall, — has she, what with drawing 
out and drawing in, actually turned into an ama- 
tory romance."f I am not prepared to prove her 
guilty to this extent^ but I shall quote some pas- 
sages to show, that what J ean Paul intimates as to 
the frivolity of her style of translating is true : — 

" Ach ! unsere Thaten selbst, so gut als unsre Leiden, 
Sie hemmen unsres Lebens Gang." 
" Nos actions, comme nos souffrances, arretent la 
marche de lapensee.^X 

" Dem Wurme gleich' ich, der den Staub durchwuhlt. 
Den, wie er sich im Staube nahrend lebt, 
Des Wandrers Tritt vernichtet und begrabt." 

* From the Schlegels. She probably caught up a good many of 
their ideas in conversation, but neither of them assuredly can have 
looked over her analysis of Faust. 

t Heidelberger Jahrbucher der Litteratur, 1815. 

X She had probably Hotspur's exclamation in her head : — 
" But thought's the slave of life, and life time's fool." 



( xciv ) 



" C'est a l'insecte que je ressemble. II s'agite dans 
la poussiere, il se nourrit d'elle, et le voyageur, en 
passant, l'ecrase et le detruit." 

Here the whole force of the vernichtet und 
begr'dbt is lost. 

She describes Mephistopheles' soliloquy when 
left alone to receive the student, (post, p. 73,) in 
this manner : — 

" II revet la robe de docteur, et, pendant qu'il 
attend l'ecolier, il exprime seul son dedain pour Faust. 
Cet homme, dit-il, ne sera jamais qu'a demi-pervers, 
et c'est en vain qu'il se flatte de parvenir a l'etre 
entierement." 

This is the passage which calls down the well- 
merited indignation of Jean Paul. Her description 
of the conclusion of the dialogue with the student 
(post, p. 80,) is equally infelicitous : — " Mephis- 
topheles ecrit ce que Satan a dit a Eve pour 
l'engager a manger le fruit de 1'arbre de vie : ( Vous 
serez comme Dieu, connoissant le bien et le maT. 
Je peux bien, se dit-il a lui-meme, emprunter cette 
ancienne sentence a mon cousin le serpent ; il y a 
long-temps qu'on sen sert dans ma famille" 
Faust's exposition of his creed is completely spoilt ; 
and where (post, p. 145,) Faust complains that 
Mephistopheles is ever kindling a wild fire in his 
heart for that lovely image (meaning Margaret) ; 
Madame makes him say — " II allume dans mon 
sein un feu d6sordonne qui m'attire vers la beautt." 
But the remark with which she introduces this 
scene — " Faust se lasse de l'amour de Marguerite" 



( xcv ) 



&c. when his passion is in reality just arrived at 
the highest pitch, and her treatment of the con- 
cluding part of it (post, p. 149), were alone enough 
to demonstrate the little weight that can be attached 
to her opinions upon Faust. She actually describes 
this concluding part as occurring after the seduction 
of Margaret and after the murder of Valentine, and 
then gives the following translation of it : — 

" Mephistopheles oblige Faust a quitter la ville, et 
le desespoir que lui fait eprouver le sort de Marguerite 
interesse a lui de nouveau. 

" ' Helas ! s'ecrie Faust, elle eut ete si facilement 
heureuse, une simple cabane dans une vallee des Alpes, 
quelques occupations domestiques, auroient suffi pour 
satisfaire ses desirs bornes, et remplir sa douce vie ; 
mais moi, 1'ennemi de Dieu, je n'ai pas eu de repos que 
je n'aie brise son cceur, que je n'aie fait tomber en 
ruines sa pauvre destinee. Ainsi done la paix doit lui 
etre ravie pour toujours. II faut qu'elle soit la victime 
de l'enfer. He bien ! demon, abrege mon angoisse, 
fais arriver ce qui doit arriver. Que le sort de cette 
infortunee s'accomplisse, et precipite-moi du moins 
avec elle dans 1'abime.' 

" L'amertume et le sang-froid de la reponse de Me- 
phistopheles sont vraiment diaboliques. 

" 4 Comme tu t'enflammes, lui dit-il, comrae tu bouil- 
lonnes ! Je ne sais comment te consoler, et sur mon hon- 
neur je me donnerois au diable, si je ne Vetois pas moi- 
meme: mais penses-tu done, insense, que parce que ta 
pauvre tete ne voit plus d'issue, il n'y en ait plus 
veritablement ? Vive celui qui sait tout supporter avec 
courage! Je t'ai deja rendu pas mal semblable a moi, 



( xcvi ) 



et songe, je t'en prie, qu'il n'y a rien de plus fastidieux 
dans ce monde qu'un diable qui se desespere.' " 

Such blundering as this is wholly unaccountable. 
She first wrenches a fine passage from its place, 
thereby making nonsense of it, and then mixes 
it up with matter which has no conceivable connec- 
tion with it. Mephistopheles uses words some- 
thing like those in italics, in the scene where he 
complains of the jewels having been carried off 
by the priest, (post, p. 119), but what Madame 
means by introducing them here, it is for her 
admiring countrymen, or her literary advisers in 
Germany, to explain. She has contrived to miss 
most of the delicate touches in the prison scene, 
and made several gross blunders in it to boot; 
as — 

(< Es fasst mich kalt beym Schopfe." 
" L'air est si froid pres de la fontaine." 

" Sag Niemand dass du schon bey Gretchen warst." 
" Ne dis a personne que tu as vu Marguerite cette 
nuit." 

She concludes as follows : — 

" Mephistopheles (d Faust J. 
" Suis-moi. 

" ( Mephistopheles disparoit avec Faust ; on entend 
encore dans le fond du cachot la voix de Marguerite qui 
rappelle vainement son ami :) 

" Faust ! Faust ! " 

u La piece est interrompue apres ces mots. L'in- 
tention de l'auteur est sans doute que Marguerite 



( xcvii ) 



perisse, et que Dieu lui pardonne ; que la vie de Faust 
soit sauvee, mats que son dme soit perdue." 

As a continuation is on the eve of appearing, it 
would be dangerous to speculate on the author's 
intentions ; but, so far as they can be collected, I 
should say that here again she is decidedly wrong.* 

I cannot quit the subject of translation from the 
German by the French, without alluding to one 
peculiarity which is clearly traceable in all their 
attempts of the sort. To whatever cause the curious 
in national character may attribute it, certain it is 
that the French have comparatively little notion of 
what we call bathos in composition, and are con- 
stantly spoiling the effect of highly-wrought pas- 
sages by light or ludicrous associations. Half the 
examples of vagueness and incorrectness given 
above are also examples of this, and I could treble 
the number with ease. Thus, in translating Faust's 
appeal to the moon, (post, p. 18,) both M. Stapfer 
and M. Gerard make him express a wish to dance 
in the meadows by her light; and M. Sainte- 
Aulaire makes him exclaim, when he is about to 
take the poison : " Partons avec gaite pour ce 
voyage" — without, in either case, the slightest war- 
rant from the text. I fear I shall call down a 
storm of indignation on my head, but I do really 
think there is no other country in the world, in 
which Faust would have been pictured as wishing to 

* [And wrong she turns out to be See the abstract of the Second 
Part, Appendix 1.] 



( xcviii ) 



dance, or as setting out for — the place we never 
name to ears polite — with gaiety.* 

I am not aware of any other translation of Faust 
in any language, though I have been at some pains 
to inquire, — particularly in Italy, where German 
literature has attracted considerable attention of 
late, and where Faust might be expected to inspire 
a peculiar interest from its being constantly asso- 
ciated by critics with the Divine Comedy of Dante.f 

* Some curious examples of bathos in the greatest French writers 
may be seen in Schlegel's Lectures on the Drama, Lect. 11 ; where 
we are also made to remark their excessive apprehension of ridicule. 
I lately witnessed a singular illustration of French insensibility to 
the art of sinking. I had the good fortune to be present at the 
sitting of the French Academy held for the reception of M. Dupin 
aine. In replying to the Inaugural Oration, the acting President 
(M. Jouy) having occasion to speak of M. Dupin's works, ushered 
in what he had to say of one of them thus : — " £n parlant de votre 
grand ouvrage en deux volumes," 8$c. To the best of my observa- 
tion, there was not a Frenchman present who smiled, and not an 
Englishman who did not. By way of testing my theory, I told the 
story the day after to a mixed party, and the effect was precisely 
the same. I once heard it asked how any thing else could be 
expected from a language which has but one word to express liking 
and loving, a mistress or a leg of mutton — J'aime Julie — J'aime 
un gigot. Yet it is the language in which, to say nothing of past 
ages, Beranger, Lamartine, Victor Hugo, Sainte Beuve, &c. &c. &c. 
have immortalised themselves in our own. 

t The following anecdote, related to me by an eye-witness, is a 
singular illustration of the sort of devotional feeling with which 
Italians regard every thing connected with Dante. One morning 
during Mr. Cary's residence at Chiswich (in the house formerly 
occupied by Hogarth), two strangers were observed inquiring 
anxiously for the house. They were supposed to mean the Duke of 
Devonshire's and directed accordingly ; but this was soon discovered 
to be a mistake. The house they meant was that of the translator 



( xcix ) 



My main object in these criticisms is to shake, 
if not remove, the very disadvantageous impressions 
that have hitherto been prevalent of Faust, and 
keep public opinion suspended concerning Goethe 
till some poet of congenial spirit shall arise, capable 
of doing justice to this, the most splendid and 
interesting of his works. By my translation, also, 
I shall be able to show what he is not, though it 
will be quite impossible for me to show what he is. 
"II me reste (says M. Stapfer), a protester contre 
ceux qui, apres la lecture de cette traduction, s'ima- 
gineraient avoir acquis une idee complete de l'origi- 
nal. Porte sur tel ouvrage traduit que ce soit, 
le jugement serait errone ; il le serait surtout a 
1'egard de celui-ci, a cause de la perfection continue 
du style. Qu'on se figure tout le charme de l'Am- 
phitryon de Moliere joint a ce que les poesies de 
Parny offrent de plus gracieux, alors seulement 
on pourra se croire dispense de le lire." If I do 

of Dante — a greater man in their eyes than any duke upon earth — 
and without even a letter of introduction to the proprietor, they had 
walked all the way from town for the pleasure of seeing the house in 
which he lived, and the chance of catching a glimpse of himself. 
Another translation of Dante (by Mr. Wright), which the best 
judges declare to be also of first-rate excellence, is in the very act of 
publication as I write, but the difference of plan removes all the 
invidiousness of rivalry. The best Italian translations from the 
German are Maffei's from Schiller. Nicolini presented Maffei's 
translation of Maria Stuart to an English lady with the remark, that 
it was worth all his own productions put together. [Foscolo's most 
celebrated work, the Letters of Ortis, is so palpably founded on 
Werther, that Nicolovius has inserted it in a list of imitations of 
Goethe. I have recently heard that an Italian translation of Faust 
is preparing. ] 



( c ) 

not say something of the sort, it is only because I 
cannot decide with what English names Moliere 
and Parny would be most aptly replaced. The 
merely English reader, however, will perhaps take 
my simple assurance, that, from the admitted beauty 
of Goethe's versification, no writer loses more by 
being submitted to the crucible of prose ; though, 
at the same time, very few writers can afford to 
lose so much; as Dryden said of Shakspeare, if 
his embroideries were burnt down, there would 
still be silver at the bottom of the melting-pot. 
The bloom-like beauty of the songs, in particular, 
vanishes at the bare touch of a translator ; as re- 
gards these, therefore, I may as well own at once 
that I am inviting my friends to a sort of Barme- 
cide entertainment, where fancy must supply all 
the materials for banqueting.* I have one com- 
fort, however : the poets have hitherto tried their 
hands at them in vain, and I am backed by very 
high authority in declaring the most beautiful — 
Meine Ruli ist kin — to be utterly untranslatable. 
Indeed, it is only by a lucky chance that a succes- 
sion of simple heartfelt expressions or idiomatic 
felicities in one language, is ever capable of exact 
representation in another. Two passages already 
quoted appear well adapted to exemplify what I 
mean. When Margaret exclaims : — 

" Sag Niemand dass du schon bey Gretchen warst," 

* I had serious thoughts at one time of calling this book " Aids 
to the understanding of Faust" — a sort of title not unusual in 
Germany, and indicating the exact light in which I wish my labours 
to be viewed. I gave it up for fear of being accused of affectation. 



( ci ) 



it is quite impossible to render in English the finely 
shaded meaning of bey. Here, therefore, Germany 
has the best of it, but when we translate — 

" Schon war ich auch, und das war mein verderben" 

" I was fair too, and that was my undoing" — we 
greatly improve upon the original, and add a deli- 
cacy which I defy any German to imitate : for the 
applicability of verderben in so many other places 
completely spoils its peculiar fitness for this.* 

My only object in giving a sort of rhythmical ar- 
rangement to the lyrical parts, was to convey some 

* Many striking examples of the above theory will be found on 
comparing Vincent Bourne's translations with the originals. It was 
in performing this very pleasing task some years ago that I was first 
led to generalise upon the subject. [Indeed, I have generally 
found that the most admired metrical translations are good upon a 
principle of compensation. The translators omit or alter a great 
many of the beauties of their original, and insert a great many of 
their own. Mr. Coleridge's Wallenstein (see ante, p. xiv, note) is 
a striking example of this. The following exquisite verses are in 
every body's mouth : 

" The intelligible forms of ancient poets, 
The fair humanities of old religion, 
The Power, the Beauty, and the Majesty ; 
That had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain, 
Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring, 
Or chasms and wat'ry depths ; all these have vanished, 
They live no longer in the faith of reason." 

These seven lines are a beautiful amplification of two : 
" Die alten Fabelwesen sind nicht mehr, 
Das reizende Geschlecht ist ausge wander t." 

Literally : 

" The old fable-existences are no more, 
The fascinating race has emigrated."] 
h 



( cii ) 



notion of the variety of versification which forms one 
great charm of the poem. The idea was first sug- 
gested to me by Milton's translation of the Ode to 
Pyrrha, entitled : " Quis multa gracilis te puer in rosa, 
rendered almost word for word without rime, accord- 
ing to the Latin measure, as near as the language 
will admit." But I have seldom, if ever, made any 
sacrifice of sense for the purpose of rounding a line 
in the lyrics or a period in the regular prose, pro- 
ceeding throughout on the rooted conviction, that, 
if a translation such as mine be not literal, it is 
valueless. By literal, however, must be understood 
only that I have endeavoured to convey the precise 
meaning of Goethe : an object often best attainable 
by preserving the exact form of expression em- 
ployed by him, unless, indeed, it be an exclusively 
national one. Even then I have not always re- 
jected it : for, in my opinion, one great advantage 
to be anticipated from such translations is the 
naturalization of some of those pregnant modes of 
expression in which the German language is so 
remarkably rich. Idioms, of course, belong to a 
wholly different category. My remarks apply only 
to those phrases and compounds where nothing is 
wanting to make an Englishman perfectly au fait 
of them, but to think out the full meaning of the 
words. In all such cases I translate literally, in 
direct defiance of those sagacious critics, who ex- 
pect to catch the spirit of a work of genius as dogs 
lap water from the Nile, and vote a German author 
unreadable unless all his own and his country's 
peculiarities are planed away. 



( ciii ) 



In Faust the same word sometimes occurs oftener 
than English taste may approve. I have, notwith- 
standing, repeated it. It was not my business to 
attempt polishing the style ; and I think, moreover, 
that we are far too fastidious in this respect, In 
short, my theory is, that if the English reader, 
not knowing German, be made to stand in pre- 
cisely the same relation to Faust as the English 
reader, thoroughly acquainted with German, stands 
in towards it — i. e. if the same impressions be 
conveyed through the same sort of medium, whe- 
ther bright or dusky, coarse or fine — the very 
extreme point of a translator's duty has been 
attained.* 

But though I feel pretty confident of the cor- 
rectness of this theory, I am far from certain that 
my practice uniformly accords with it — 

" \ ideo meliora proboqiie, 
Deteriora sequor" — 

I cannot deny that I have often been driven to a 

* [It has been objected that I am here proposing an impossibi- 
lity. Granting that I am, I do not see why T should not take a 
perfect theory, as moralists take a perfect character, as a test. 
But the fact is, though I use the terms " precisely the same," I 
directly go on to qualify them : "i.e. if the same impressions be 
conveyed through the same sort of medium, whether bright or 
dusky, coarse or fine ;" which, fairly construed, involves no im- 
possibility at all. My critic in the Dublin University Review is 
pleased to say : " It is a mistake too of Mr. Hayward to suppose 
that the reader of his English, who knows Faust through no other 
medium, is placed in the same position &c." I request him to read 
the next paragraph, together with p. xcix, and then consider whether 
he may not have mistaken me.] 

h 2 



( civ ) 



paraphrase by necessity, and sometimes seduced 
into one by indolence. A little must be allowed 
also for the difficulty of reducing verse into read- 
able prose.* As the translation, however, has 
been executed at leisure moments, was finished 
many months ago, and has undergone the careful 
revisal of friends, I think I can answer for its 
general accuracy ; but in a work so crowded with 
elliptical and idiomatic, nay even provincial, 
modes of expression, and containing so many 
doubtful allusions, as Faust, it is morally impos- 
sible to guard against individual errors ; or what, 
at any rate, may be represented as such by those 
who will not give the translator credit for having 
weighed and rejected the constructions they may 
chance to prefer. In the course of my inquiries, 
I have not unfrequently had three or four different 
interpretations suggested to me by as many accom- 
plished German scholars, each ready to do battle 
for his own against the world. There are also 
some few meanings which all reasonable people 
confess themselves unable to un-earth, — or rather, 
un-heaven; for it is by rising, not sinking, that 
Goethe leaves his readers behind, and in nearly 
all such instances, we respect, despite of our em- 
barrassment, the aspirations of a master-mind, soar- 
ing proudly up into the infinite unknown, and 
though failing possibly in the full extent of its aim, 
yet bringing back rich tokens of its flight. 

* [I was here alluding to the abrupt turns and breaks common 
jn poetry.] 



( cv ) 



Faust has never yet been published with notes, 
with the exception of a very few added to the 
French translations, in which none of the real 
difficulties are removed. I have endeavoured to 
supply this deficiency by bringing together all the 
information I could collect amongst a pretty ex- 
tensive circle of German acquaintance. I have 
also ransacked all the commentaries I could get, 
though nothing can be more unsatisfactory than 
the result. They are almost exclusively filled with 
trashy amplifications of the text, not unfrequently 
dilating into chapters what Goethe had condensed 
in a line. I have named the whole of them in an 
Appendix.* That of Dr. Schubarth is said to be 
the only one which ever received any token of 
approbation from Goethe. A few parallel passages 
from English poets will also be found in the notes. 
They are merely such as incidentally suggested 
themselves ; except, indeed, that I re-read the 
greater part of Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Shelley, 
during the progress of the undertaking ; a course 
of study which I earnestly recommend my fellow- 
labourers in this walk to pursue. I mention it as 
a singular fact, that I gained no addition to my 
stock of expressions from Byron, though at one 
period of my life I knew him pretty nearly by 
heart.f 

* [Post, p. 348. The list stood as a note to this passage in the 
former edition.] 

t Byron, however, is the most popular of modern English poets 
in Germany. Moore, Campbell and Rogers come next. I have 
recently met with a singular mark of German partiality for Moore — 



( cvi ) 



I fear it will be quite impossible for me to ac- 
knowledge all the assistance I have received, but 
there are a few kind co-operators whom I think 
it a duty to name, though without their know- 
ledge and perhaps contrary to their wish. 

I certainly owe most to my old master and 
friend Mr. Heilner, whose consummate critical 
knowledge of both languages enabled him to 
afford me the most effective aid in disentangling 
the perplexities of the work ; and to my friend Mr. 
Hills (of the Home Circuit), one of the best Ger- 
man scholars I know, in whose richly-stored mind 
and fine taste I found a perfect treasure-house of 
all that is most beautiful in the most beautiful 
creations of genius, and an almost infallible crite- 
rion of propriety. 

a translation, line for line, of the Loves of the Angels. The com- 
mencement may be taken as a fair sample of the attempt : — 

" Es trug die Welt ihr erstes Kleid, 
Und Sterne hatten kaum begonnen 
In Glanz zu kreisen, und die Zeit 
War Tageweise nur verronnen ; 
Als in der Dammrung der Natur 
Sich Engel froh mit Menschen griissten." — 

Thomas Moore's Liebe der Engel. Gedicht fyc. 
ubersetzt von Paul Graf v. Haugwitz. Bresslau, 
bei Gosohorsky. 

One of the most flattering testimonies of admiration for an English 
writer appeared in a late number of a German journal of consider- 
able repute. It was a review of a new translation of Eugene Aram, 
The Disowned, and Devereux, lavishing the highest commendation 
on them, and surmounted by a wreath or coronet of flowers with 
Bulwer inscribed in the centre of it. 



( cvii ) 



But it is also with pride and pleasure that I offer 
my best acknowledgments for very valuable aid to 
— Mrs. John Austin, the elegant translator of The 
German Prince's Tour: Dr. Bernays, Professor of 
the German Language and Literature at King's 
College, and one of those who have reflected most 
honour on that Institution by their works : my 
clever and warm-hearted friend, Mr. Heller, At- 
tache to the Prussian Embassy: Mr. A. Trop- 
paneger, a German gentleman of learning and 
taste now residing in London : Dr. Jacob Grimm, 
the first philologist of this or perhaps of any age, 
and an eminently successful cultivator of the most 
interesting department of German literature be- 
sides : and, last not least, A. W. von Schlegel — 
the world has long ceased to prefix titles to the 
name — whose enduring claims to general admira- 
tion are at once too various to be easily enume- 
rated and too well known to need enumerating. 
There is yet another highly distinguished friend, 
whose name I should have been enabled to add, 
had not his regretted absence in a foreign country 
deprived me of it. When I reflect how much I 
owed to him on a former occasion of the kind, I 
cannot contemplate the omission without a pang. # 

In conclusion I have only to say, that, as I fol- 
lowed no one implicitly, my friends are not an- 

* [I was alluding to Mr. G. C Lewis, Translator of Boekh's 
Domestic Policy of the Athenians and (with Mr. H. Tuffhell) 
Miiller's History of the Dorians. He looked over my translation 
from Savigny for me.] 



( cviii ) 



swerable for my mistakes ; and that I shall be 
much obliged to any one who will suggest any 
amendment in the translation or any addition to 
the notes, as at some future time I may reprint or 
publish the work. 

A. H. 

Temple, January 5th, 1833. 



DEDICATION. 



Ye approach again, ye shadowy shapes, which once, in 
the morning of life, presented yourselves to my trou- 
bled view ! Shall I try, this time, to hold you fast ? 
Do I feel my heart still inclined towards that delu- 
sion ? Ye press forward ! well then, ye may hold 
dominion over me, as ye rise around out of vapour 
and mist. My bosom feels youthfully agitated by the 
magic breath which atmospheres your train. 

Ye bring: with you the images of happy days, and 
many loved shades arise : like to an old, half-expired 
Tradition, rises First-love with Friendship in their 
company. The pang is renewed ; the plaint repeats 
the labyrinthine, mazy course of life, and names the 
dear ones, who, cheated of fair hours by fortune, have 
vanished away before me. 

They hear not the following lays — the souls to whom 
I sang the first. Dispersed is the friendly throng — 
the first echo, alas, has died away ! My sorrow voices 
itself to the stranger many : their very applause makes 

B 



( 2 ) 

my heart sick ; and all that in other days rejoiced 
in my song — if still living, strays scattered through 
the world. 

And a yearning, long unfelt, for that quiet, pensive 
Spirit-realm seizes me. 'Tis hovering even now, in 
half-formed tones, — my lisping lay, like the iEolian 
harp. A tremor seizes me : tear follows tear : the 
austere heart feels itself growing mild and soft. What 
I have, I see as in the distance ; and what is gone, 
becomes a reality to me. 



( 3 ) 



PROLOGUE FOR THE THEATRE. 

Manager — Theatre-Poet — Merryman. 
Manager. 

Ye two, who have so often stood by me in need and 
tribulation, say, what hopes do you happen to entertain 
for our undertaking upon German ground? I wish very 
much to please the multitude, particularly because it 
lives and lets live. The posts, the boards are put up, 
and every one looks forward to a feast. There they 
sit already, cool, with elevated brows, and would fain 
be set a wondering. I know how the spirit of the 
people is conciliated ; yet I have never been in such 
a dilemma as now. True, they are not accustomed to 
the best, but they have read a terrible deal. How 
shall we manage it — that all be fresh and new, and 
pleasing and instructive at once ? For assuredly I 
like to see the multitude, when the stream rushes 
towards our booth, and, with powerfully-repeated un- 
dulations, forces itself through the narrow portal of 
grace — when, in broad day-light, already before four, 
they elbow their way to the paying place, and risk 
b 2 



( 4 ) 

breaking their necks for a ticket, as in a famine at 
bakers' doors for bread. It is the poet only that 
works this miracle on people so various — oh ! do it, 
my friend, to-day ! 

Poet. 

Oh ! speak not to me of that motley multitude, at 
whose very aspect my spirit takes flight. Veil from 
me that undulating throng, which sucks us, against 
our will, into the whirlpool. No ! conduct me to the 
quiet, heavenly nook, where only for the poet pure en- 
joyment blooms— where love and friendship, with god- 
like hand, create and cherish the blessings of the heart. 
Ah ! what there hath gushed from us in the depths of 
the breast, what the lip stammered tremblingly to 
itself — now failing, and now perchance succeeding — the 
wild moment's sway swallows up. Often only when it 
has endured through years, does it appear in perfected 
form. What glitters, is born for the moment. What 
is genuine, remains unlost to posterity. 

Merryman. 

If I could but hear no more about posterity ! Sup- 
pose I chose to talk about posterity, who then would 
make fun for cotemporaries ? That they will have — and 
ought to have it. The presence of a gallant lad, too, is 
always something, I should think. Who knows how to 
impart himself agreeably — he will never be irritated 



( 5 ) 

by popular caprice. He desires a large circle, to agi- 
tate it the more certainly. Then do but pluck up 
courage, and show yourself a model to the world. 
Let Fancy, with all her chorusses, — Reason, Under- 
standing, Feeling, Passion, but — mark me well — not 
without Folly, be heard. 

Manager. 

But, most particularly, let there be incident enough. 
People come to look ; their greatest pleasure is to see. 
If much is spun off before their eyes, so that the many 
can gape with astonishment, you have then gained in 
breadth immediately ; you are a great favourite. You 
can only subdue the mass by mass. Each eventually 
picks out something for himself. Who brings much, 
will bring something to many a one, and all leave the 
house content. If you give a piece, give it at once in 
pieces ! With such a hash, you cannot but succeed. 
It is easily served out, as easily as invented. What 
avails it to present a whole ? the public will pull it to 
pieces for you notwithstanding. 

Poet. 

You feel not the baseness of such a handicraft ! 
How little that becomes the true artist ! The daubing 
of these fine sparks, I see, is already a maxim with 
you. 



( 6 ) 



Manager. 

Such a reproof does not mortify me at all. A man 
who intends to work properly, must set a value on the 
best tool. Consider, you have soft wood to split; and 
only look whom you are writing for ! Whilst one is 
driven by ennui, the other comes satiated from an 
overloaded table ; and, what is worst of all, very many 
a one comes from reading the newspapers. People 
hurry dissipated to us, as to masquerades ; and curiosity 
only wings every step. The ladies give themselves and 
their finery as a treat, and play with us without pay* 
What are you dreaming about on your poetical height ? 
What is it that makes a full house merry ? Look 
closely at your patrons ! Half are cold, half raw. 
The one looks forward to a game of cards after the 
play ; the other, to a wild night on the bosom of a 
wench. Why, poor fools that ye are, do ye plague the 
sweet Muses for such an end ? I tell you, only give 
more, and more, and more again ; thus can you never 
be wide of your mark. Try only to mystify the 
people ; to satisfy them is hard — What is come to you ? 
Delight or pain 1 

Poet. 

Begone and seek thyself another servant ! The poet, 
forsooth, is wantonly to sport away for thy sake the 
highest right, the right of man, which Nature bestows 



( 7 ) 

upon him ! By what stirs he every heart ? By what 
subdues he every element ? Is it not the harmony — 
which bursts from out his breast, and sucks the world 
back again into his heart ? When Nature, carelessly 
winding, forces the thread's interminable length upon 
the spindle : when the confused multitude of all Beings 
jangles out of tune and harsh, — who, life-infusing, 
so disposes the ever equably-flowing series, that it 
moves rhythmically ? Who calls the Individual to the 
general consecration — where it strikes in glorious 
accords ? Who bids the tempest rage to passions ? the 
evening-red glow in the pensive spirit ? Who scatters 
on the loved one's path all beauteous blossomings of 
spring? Who wreathes the unmeaning green leaves 
into a garland of honour for deserts of all kinds ? 
Who ensures Olympus? — associates Gods? Man's 
Power revealed in the Poet. 

Merryman. 

Employ these fine powers then, and carry on your 
poetical affairs as one carries on a love-adventure. — 
Accidentally one approaches, one feels, one stays, and 
little by little one gets entangled. The happiness in- 
creases, — then it is disturbed ; one is delighted, — then 
comes distress ; and before one is aware of it, it is even 
a romance. Let us also give a play in this manner. 
Only plunge into the thick of human life ! Every 
one lives it, — to not many is it known; and seize it 



( 8 ) 

where you will, it is interesting. Little clearness in 
motley images ! much falsehood and a spark of truth ! 
this is the way to brew the best liquor, which refreshes 
and edifies all the world. Then assembles youth's 
fairest flower to see your play, and listens to the reve- 
lation. Then every gentle mind sucks melancholy 
nourishment for itself from out your work ; then one 
while this, and one while that, is stirred up ; each one 
sees what he carries in his heart. They are as yet 
equally ready to weep and to laugh ; they still honour 
the soaring, are pleased with the shine. One who is 
formed, there is no such thing as pleasing ; one who is 
forming, will always be grateful. 

Then give me also back again the times, when I 
myself was still forming ; when a fountain of crowded 
lays sprang freshly and unbrokenly forth ; when mists 
veiled my world, — the bud still promised miracles ; 
when I gathered the thousand flowers which profusely 
filled all the dales ! I had nothing, and yet enough, — 
the intuitive longing after truth, and the pleasure in 
delusion ! Give me back those impulses untamed, — 
the deep, pain-fraught happiness, the energy of hatred, 
the might <of love ! — Give me back my youth ! 

Merryman. 

Youth, my good friend, you need undoubtedly, when 
foes press you hard in the fight, — when the loveliest of 



(. 9 .) 

lasses cling with ardour round your neck, — when, from 
afar, the garland of the swift course beckons from the 
hard- won goal, — when, after the dance's maddening 
whirl, one drinks away the night carousing. But to 
strike the familiar lyre with spirit and grace, to sweep 
along, with happy wanderings, towards a self-appointed 
aim ; — that, old gentlemen, is your duty, and we honour 
you not the less on that account. Old age does not 
make childish, as men say ; it only finds us still as 
true children. 

Manager. 

Words enough have been interchanged ; let me now 
see deeds also. Whilst you are turning compliments, 
something useful may be done. What boots it to stand 
talking about being in tune ? The hesitating never is 
so. If ye once give yourselves out for poets, — com- 
mand poesy. You well know what we want ; we would 
sip strong drink — now brew away immediately ! What 
is not doing to-day, is not done to-morrow. No day 
should be wasted in dallying. Resolution should 
boldly seize the possible by the forelock at once. She 
will then not let it go, and works on, because she can- 
not help it. 

You know, upon our German stage, every one tries 
what he likes. Therefore spare me neither scenery 
nor machinery upon this day. Use the greater and 

/it * I V~ /-/A : .H^ 

J ' 9 



( io ) 

the lesser light of heaven ; you are free to squander 
the stars ; there is no want of water, fire, rocks, beasts, 
and birds. So spread out, in this narrow booth, the 
whole circle of creation ; and travel, with considerate 
speed, from Heaven, through the World, to Hell. 



FAUST. 



PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN. 

The Lord — the Heavenly Hosts. Afterwards 
Mephistopheles. 

The Three Archangels come forward. 

Raphael. 

The Sun chimes in, as ever, with the emulous music of 
his brother spheres, and performs his prescribed jour- 
ney with the roll of the thunder. His aspect gives 
strength to the angels, though none can fathom him. 
Thy inconceivably sublime works are glorious as on the 
first day. 

Gabriel. 

And rapid, inconceivably rapid, the pomp of the 
earth revolves; the brightness of paradise alternates 
with deep, fearful night. The sea foams up in broad 
waves at the deep base of the rocks ; and rock and sea 
are whirled on in the ever rapid course of the spheres. 



( 12 ) 
Michael. 

And storms are roaring as if in rivalry, from sea to 
land, from land to sea, and forming all around a chain 
of the deepest elemental ferment in their rage. There, 
flashing desolation flares before the path of the thunder- 
clap. But thy messengers, Lord, respect the mild 
going of thy day. 

The Three. 

Thy aspect gives strength to the angels, though 
none can fathom thee, and all thy sublime works are 
glorious as on the first day. 

Mephistopheles. 
Since, Lord, you approach once again, and inquire 
how we are getting on, and on other occasions were 
not displeased to see me — therefore is it that you see 
me also amongst your suite. Excuse me, I cannot talk 
fine, not though the whole circle should cry scorn on 
me. My pathos would certainly make you laugh, had 
you not left off laughing. I have nothing to say about 
suns and worlds ; I only mark how men are plaguing 
themselves. The little god of the world continues ever 
of the same stamp, and is as odd as on the first day. 
He would lead a somewhat better life of it, had you not 
given him a glimmering of heaven's light. He calls it 
reason, and uses it only to be the most brutal of brutes. 
He seems to me, with your Grace's leave, like one of 




( 13 ). 

the long-legged grasshoppers, which is ever flying, and 
bounding as it flies, and then sings its old song in the 
grass ; — and would that he did but He always in the 
grass ! He thrusts his nose into every dirty mess. 
The Lord. 

Have you nothing else to say to me? Are you 
always coming for no other purpose than to complain? 
Is nothing ever to your liking upon earth ? 

Mephistopheles. 

No, Lord! I find things there, as ever, miserably 
bad. Men, in their days of wretchedness, move my 
pity ; even I myself have not the heart to torment the 
poor things. 

The Lord. 
Do you know Faust? 

Mephistopheles* 

The Doctor? 

The Lord. 

My servant? 

Mephistopheles. 
Verily! he serves you after a fashion of his own. 
The fool's meat and drink are not of earth. The fer- 
ment of his spirit impels him towards the far away. 
He himself is half conscious of his madness. Of heaven 
— he demands its brightest stars; and of earth — its 
every highest enjoyment; and nothing, neither the far 
nor the near, contents his deeply-agitated breast. 



( » ) 

The Lord. 

If he does but serve me in perplexity now, I shall 
soon lead him into light. When the tree buds, the 
gardener knows that blossom and fruit will deck the 
coming years. 

Mephistopheles. 
What will you wager ? you shall lose him yet ! If 
you give me leave to guide him quietly my own way. 
The Lord. 

So long as he lives upon the earth, so long be it not 
forbidden to thee. Man is liable to error, whilst his 
struggle lasts. 

Mephistopheles. 
I am much obliged to you for that ; for I have never 
had any fancy for the dead. I like plump, fresh cheeks 
the best. I am not at home to a corpse. I am like 
the cat with the mouse. 

The Lord. 

Enough, it is permitted thee. Divert this spirit from 
his original source, and bear him, if thou canst seize 
him, down on thy own path with thee. And stand 
abashed, when thou art compelled to own — a good 
man, in his dark strivings, may still be conscious of the 
right way. 

Mephistopheles. 
Well, well, — only it will not last long. I am not at 
all in pain for my wager. Should I succeed, excuse 



( 15 ) 

my triumphing with my whole soul. Dust shall he eat, 
and with a relish, like my cousin, the renowned snake. 
The Lord. 

There also you are free to act as you like. I have 
never hated the like of you. Of all the spirits that 
deny, the scoffer is the least offensive to me. Man's 
activity is all too prone to slumber : he soon gets fond 
of unconditional repose ; I am therefore glad to give him 
a companion, who stirs and works, and must, as devil, 
be doing. But ye, the true children of heaven, rejoice 
in the living profusion of beauty. The creative es- 
sence, which works and lives through all time, embrace 
you within the happy bounds of love ; and what hovers 
in changeful seeming, do ye fix firm with everlasting 
thoughts. (Heaven closes, the Archangels disperse.) 
Mephistopheles alone. 

I like to see the Ancient One occasionally, and take 
care not to break with him. It is really civil in so 
great a Lord, to speak so kindly with the Devil himself. 



FAUST. 



NIGHT. 

Faust in a high-vaulted narrow Gothic chamber, seated 
restless at his desk. 

Faust. 

I have now, alas, by zealous exertion, thoroughly 
mastered philosophy, jurisprudence and medicine, — 
and, to my sorrow, theology too. Here I stand, poor 
fool that I am, just as wise as before. I am called 
Master, aye, and Doctor, and have now for ten years 
been leading my pupils about — up and down, cross- 
ways and crooked ways — by the nose ; and see that we 
can know nothing ! This it is that almost burns up the 
heart within me. True, I am cleverer than all the 
solemn triflers — doctors, masters, writers and priests. 
No doubts nor scruples of any sort trouble me ; I fear 
neither hell nor the Devil. But for this very reason 
is all joy torn from me. I no longer fancy I know 
anything worth knowing; I no longer fancy I could 
teach anything to better and convert mankind. Then 
I have neither wealth, nor honour, nor worldly 
rank. No dog would like to live so any longer. I 
c 



( 18 ) 

have therefore devoted myself to magic, to try whether } 
through the power and voice of the Spirit, many a 
mystery might not become known to me ; that I may 
no longer, with bitter sweat, be driven to speak of what 
I do not know ; that I may learn what it is that holds 
the world together in its inmost core; see all the 
springs and seeds of production at work, and drive 
no longer a paltry traffic in words. 

Oh ! would that thou, radiant moonlight, wert shining 
for the last time upon my misery ; thou, for whom I 
have sat watching so many a midnight at this desk ; 
then, over books and papers, melancholy friend, didst 
thou appear to me ! Oh ! that I might wander on the 
mountain-tops in thy loved light — hover with spirits 
round the mountain caves — flit over the fields in thy 
glimmer, and escaped from all the fumes of knowledge, 
bathe, re-invigorated, in thy dew ! 

Woe is me ! am I still penned up in this dungeon — s 
this accursed, musty, walled hole — where the precious 
light of heaven itself breaks mournfully through painted 
panes, stinted by this heap of books, — worm-eaten, 
dust-begrimed, and encompassed by a smoke-smeared 
paper reaching up to the very top of the vault; 
with glasses and boxes ranged round, instruments 
piled up on all sides, ancestral lumber stuffed in 



( 19 ) 

with the rest? This is thy world, and a precious 
world it is ! 

And dost thou still ask, why thy heart flutters so 
confmedly in thy bosom? Why a vague aching deadens 
within thee every stirring principle of life? — Instead of 
the animated nature, for which God made man, thou 
hast nought around thee but beasts' skeletons and dead 
mens' bones, in smoke and mould. 

Up! away! out into the wide world! And this mys- 
terious book, from Nostradamus' own hand, is it not 
company enough for thee? Thou wilt then know the 
course of the stars, and, with nature for thy instructress, 
the soul's essence will rise to meet thee, as one spirit 
speaks to another. Vain ! that the holy signs are 
here expounded to thee by dull poring. Spirits, ye 
are hovering near ; answer me, if you hear ! 

(He opens the book and perceives the sign of the 
Macrocosm.) 

Ah ! what rapture thrills through all my senses at 
the sight! I feel a fresh, hallowed enjoyment of life, 
glowing anew, streaming through nerve and vein. Was 
it a god that traced these signs ? — which still the storm 
within, fill my poor heart with gladness, and, by a 
mystical inspiration, unveil the powers of nature to my 
view. Am I a god ? All seems so bright. I see, in 
these pure features, nature herself working in my 
c2 



( 20 ) 

soul's presence. Now for the first time do I conceive 
what the sage saith, — " The world of spirits is not 
closed. Thy sense is shut, thy heart is dead! Up, 
acolyte ! bathe, untired, thy earthly breast in the red 
beams of morning I" (He contemplates the sign.) 

How all weaves itself into a whole; the one works 
and lives in the other! How the heavenly influences 
ascend and descend, and reach each other the golden 
buckets, — on bliss-exhaling pinions, press from heaven 
through earth, all ringing harmoniously through the 
All. What a show ! but ah ! a show only ! Where 
shall I seize thee, infinite nature? Ye breasts, where? 
ye sources of all life, on which hang heaven and earth, 
towards which the blighted breast presses — ye gush, 
ye suckle, and am I thus languishing in vain ? 

( He turns over the book indignantly, and sees the sign 
of the Spirit of the Earth.) 

How differently this sign affects me ! Thou, Spirit 
of the Earth, art nearer to me. Already do I feel my 
energies exalted, already glow as with new wine ; I feel 
courage to cast myself into the world ; to endure earthly 
weal and earthly woe ; to wrestle with storms, and stand 
unshaken mid the shipwreck's crash. — Clouds thicken 
over me ; the moon pales her light ; the lamp dies away ; 
exhalations arise ; red beams flash round my head ; a 
cold shuddering flickers down from the vaulted roof 
and fastens on me ! I feel it — thou art flitting round 



( 21 ) 

me, prayer-compelled Spirit. Unveil thyself! Ah \ 
what a tearing in my heart — all my senses are up-stirr- 
ing to new sensations ! I feel my whole soul surren- 
dered to thee. Thou must — thou must! — should it 
cost me my life. 

(He seizes the book and pronounces mystically the 
sign of the Spirit. A red flame flashes up ; the 
Spirit appears in the flame.) 

Spirit. 

Who calls for me ? 

Faust, (averting his face.) 
Horrible vision ! 

Spirit. 

Thou hast compelled me hither, by dint of long 
sucking at my sphere. And now — 
Faust. 

Torture ! I endure thee not. 

Spirit. 

Thou prayest, panting, to see me, to hear my voice, 
to gaze upon my face. Thy powerful invocation works 
upon me. I am here! What a miserable terror seizes 
thee, the demigod ! Where is the soul's calling ? 
Where the breast, that created a world to itself, and 
upbore and contained it ? which, with a thrill of ecs- 
tasy, swelled to lift itself to a level with us, the Spirits. 
Where art thou, Faust? — whose voice rang to me, who 
pressed himself upon me with all his energies? Art 



( 22 ) 

thou he? thou, who, blighted by my breath, art shiver- 
ing through all the depths of life, a trembling, writhing 
worm? 

Faust. 

Shall I yield to thee, thou child of fire ? I am he, 
am Faust, thy equal. 

Spirit. 
In the tides of life, 
In the storm of action, 
I am tossed up and down, 
I drift hither and thither. 
Birth and grave, 
An eternal sea, 
A changeful weaving, 
A glowing life — 

Thus I work at the whizzing loom of time, 
And weave the living clothing of the Deity. 

Faust. 

Busy spirit, thou who sweepest round the wide 
world, how near I feel to thee ! 

Spirit. 

Thou art mate for the spirit whom thou conceivest, 
not for me. (The Spirit vanishes.) 

Faust —collapsing. 
Not thee ! Whom then ? I, the image of the 
Deity, and not mate for even thee ! 

( A knocking at the door.) 
Oh, Death ! I know it : that is my amanuensis. My 



( 23 ) 

fairest fortune is turned to nought. That the unidea'd 
groveller must disturb this fullness of visions ! 

(Wagner enters in his dressing-gown and nightcap, 

with a lamp in his hand. Faust turns round in 

displeasure.) 

Wagner. 

Excuse me — I heard you declaiming ; you were no 
doubt reading a Greek tragedy. I should like to im- 
prove myself in this art, for now-a-days it may be 
turned to account. I have often heard say, that a 
player might instruct a priest. 

Faust. 

Yes, if the priest be himself a player, as may likely 
enough come to pass occasionally. 

Wagner. 

Ah ! when a man is so condemned to his study, 
and hardly sees the world of a holiday — hardly through 
a telescope, only from afar — how is he to lead it by 
persuasion ? 

Faust. 

If you do not feel it, you will not get it by hunting 
for it, — if it does not gush from the soul, and subdue 
the hearts of all hearers with original delight. Sit 
at it for ever— glue together— cook up a hash from 
another's feast, and blow your own little heap of ashes 
into a paltry flame ! You may gain the admiration of 
children and apes, if you have a taste for it; but you 



( 24 ) 

will never touch the hearts of others, if it does not 
flow fresh from your own. 

Wagner. 

But it is elocution that makes the orator's success. 
I feel it well, but am still far behind hand. 

Faust. 

Keep the true object steadily in view — Be no tinkling 
fool ! — Reason and good sense are expressed with little 
art. And when you are seriously intent on saying 
something, is it necessary to hunt for words? Your 
speeches, I say, which are so highly polished, in which 
ye crisp the shreds of humanity, are unrefreshing 
as the mist-wind which whistles through the withered 
leaves in autumn. 

Wagner. 

Oh, heaven ! art is long, and life is short. Often, 
during my critical studies, do I suffer both in head and 
heart. How hard it is to compass the means by which 
one mounts to the fountain head; and before he has 
got half way, a poor devil must probably die ! 

Faust. 

Is parchment the holy well, a drink from which 
allays the thirst for ever ? Thou hast not gained the 
cordial, if it gushes not from thy own soul. 

Wagner. 

Excuse me! it is a great pleasure to transport one's- 
self into the spirit of the times ; to see how a wise man 



( 25 ) 

has thought before us, and to what a glorious height 
we have at last carried it. 

Faust. 

Oh, yes, up to the very stars. My friend, past ages 
are to us a book with seven seals. What people term 
the spirit of the times, is at bottom only their own 
spirit, in which the times are reflected. A miserable 
exhibition it frequently is ! A single glance is enough 
to make one run from it! A dirt-tub and a lumber- 
room! — and, at best, a puppet-show play, with fine 
pragmatical saws, such as sound well in the mouths of 
the puppets! 

Wagner. 

But the world ! the heart and mind of man ! every 
one would like to know something about that. 

Faust. 

Aye, what is called knowing. Who dares give the 
child its true name ? The few who have ever known 
anything about it, and who sillily enough did not keep 
a guard over their full hearts, but published what they 
had felt and seen to the multitude, — these, time imme- 
morial, have been crucified and burnt. I beg, friend — • 
the night is far advanced — for the present we must 
break off. 

Wagner. 

I could fain have kept waking to converse with you 
so learnedly. To-morrow, however, the first day of 



( 26 ) 

Easter, you must permit me a question or two more. 
Heart and soul have I devoted myself to study. 
True, I know much ; but I would fain know all. 

(Exit.) 

Faust. 

How hope only quits not the brain, which clings 
perse veringly to trash, — gropes with greedy hand for 
treasures, and exults at finding earth-worms ! 

Dare such a mere human voice sound here, where 
all around me teemed with spirits? Yet ah, this once 
I thank thee, thou poorest of all the sons of earth. 
Thou hast snatched me from despair, which had well- 
nigh got the better of sense. Alas ! the vision was 
so gigantically great, that I felt quite shrunk into a 
dwarf. 

I, formed in God's own image, who already thought 
myself near to the mirror of eternal truth; who re- 
velled, in the lustre and clearness of heaven, with the 
earthly part of me stripped off ; I, more than cherub, 
whose emancipated spirit already, in its imaginative 
soarings, aspired to glide through nature's veins, and, 
in creative might, enjoy the life of a god — how must 
I atone for it ! One thunder-word has swept me wide 
away. 

I dare not presume to mate myself with thee. If 
I have possessed the power to draw thee to me, I 
had no power to hold thee. In that blest moment, 



( 27 ) 

I felt myself so little, so great ; you fiercely thrust me 
back upon the uncertain lot of humanity. Who will 
teach me? What am I to shun? Must I obey that 
impulse? Alas! our actions, equally with our suffer- 
ings, clog the course of our lives. 

Something foreign, and more foreign, is ever cling- 
ing to the noblest conception the mind of man can 
form. When we have acquired the good of this world, 
what is better is termed falsehood and vanity. The 
glorious feelings which gave us life, become torpid in 
the worldly throng. 

If phantasy, at one time, on daring wing and full of 
hope, dilates to infinity, — a little space is now enough 
for her, when venture after venture has been wrecked 
in the whirlpool of time. Care straightway builds her 
nest in the depths of the heart, hatches vague tortures 
there, rocks herself restlessly, and frightens joy and 
peace away. She is ever putting on some new mask ; 
she may appear as house and land, as wife and child, 
as fire, water, dagger, poison. You tremble before all 
that never affects you, and must be always wailing what 
you never lose. 

I am not like the heavenly essences ; I feel it but too 
deeply. I am like the worm, which drags itself 
through the dust, — which, as it seeks its living in 
the dust, is crushed and buried by the step of the 
passer-by. 



( 28 ) 

Is it not dust, all that in a hundred shelves con- 
tracts this lofty wall — the frippery, which, with its 
thousand forms of emptiness, cramps me up in this 
world of moths? Is this the place for finding what I 
want? Must I go on reading in a thousand hooks, 
that men have made themselves miserable in all ages, 
that now and then there has been a happy one ? 

Thou, hollow scull, what mean'st thou by that grin ? 
but that thy brain, like mine, was once bewildered, — 
sought the bright day, and, with an ardent longing 
after truth, went miserably astray in the twilight ? 

Ye instruments, too, forsooth, are mocking me, with 
your wheels and cogs, cylinders and collars. I stood 
at the gate, ye were to be the key ; true, your wards 
are curiously twisted, but you raise not the bolt. In- 
scrutable at broad day, nature does not suffer her veil 
to be torn from her ; and what she does not choose to 
reveal to thy mind, thou wilt not wrest from her by 
levers and screws. 

You, antiquated lumber, which I have never used, 
you are only here because my father had occasion for 
you. Thou, old roll, hast been smoke-besmeared since 
the dim lamp first smouldered at this desk. Far 
better would it be for me to have squandered away 
the little I possess, than to be sweating here under the 
burden of that little. To possess what thou hast 
inherited from thy sires, enjoy it. What one does not 



( 29 ) 



profit by, is an oppressive burden; what the moment 
brings forth, that only can it profit by. 

But why are my looks fastened on that spot : is that 
phial there a magnet to my eyes ? Why, of a sudden, 
is all so exquisitely bright, as when the moonlight 
breathes round one benighted in the woods? I hail 
thee, thou precious phial, which I now take down with 
reverence ; in thee 1 honour the wit and art of man. 
Thou abstraction of kind soporific juices, thou con- 
centration of all refined deadly essences, vouchsafe thy 
master a token of thy grace ! I see thee, and the pang 
is mitigated; I grasp thee, and the struggle abates; 
the spirit's flood-tide ebbs by degrees. I am beckoned 
out into the wide sea ; the glassy wave glitters at my 
feet; another day invites to other shores. A chariot 
of fire waves, on light pinions, down to me. I feel 
prepared to permeate the realms of space, by a new 
track, to new spheres of pure activity. This sublime 
existence, this god-like beatitude ! And thou, worm as 
thou wert but now, dost thou merit it ? Aye, only 
resolutely turn thy back on the bright sun of the 
earth ! Dare to tear up the gates which all willingly 
slink by ! Now is the time to show by deeds that man's 
dignity yields not to God's sublimity, — to quail not 
in presence of that dark abyss, in which phantasy 
damns itself to its own torments — to struggle onwards 



( 30 ) 

to that pass, around whose narrow mouth all Hell is 
flaming ; calmly to resolve upon the step, even at the 
risk of dropping into nothingness. 

Now come down, pure crystal goblet, on which I 
have not thought for many a year, — forth from your 
old receptacle ! You glittered at my fathers' festivi- 
ties, gladdening the grave guests, as one pledged you 
to the other. The gorgeousness of the many artfully- 
wrought images, — the drinker's duty to explain them 
in rhyme, and empty the contents at a draught, — 
remind me of many a night of my youth. I shall not 
now pass you to a neighbour : I shall not now display 
my wit on your devices. Here is a juice which soon 
intoxicates. It fills your cavity with its brown flood. 
Be this last draught — which I brewed, which I choose 
— quaffed, with my whole soul, as a solemn festal 
greeting to the morn. 

( He places the goblet to his mouth.) 
( The ringing of bells and singing of chorusses.) 
Chorus of Angels. 

Christ is arisen ! 

Joy to the mortal, 

Whom the corrupting, 

Creeping, hereditary 

Imperfections enveloped. 
Faust. 

What deep humming, what clear strain, draws irre- 



( 31 ) 

sistibly the goblet from nay mouth ? Are ye hollow- 
sounding bells already proclaiming the first festal hour 
of Easter ? Are ye chorusses already singing the com- 
forting hymn, which once, around the night of the 
sepulchre, pealed forth, from angel lips, the assurance 
of a new covenant ? 

Chorus of Women. 
With spices 

Had we embalmed him ; 
We, his faithful ones, 
Had laid him out. 
Clothes and bands 
Cleanlily swathed we round; 
Ah ! and we find 
Christ no longer here ! 

Chorus of Angels. 
Christ is arisen ! 
Happy the loving one, 
Who the afflicting, 
Wholesome and chastening 
Trial has stood ! 

Faust. 

Why, ye heavenly tones, with your subduing soft- 
ness, do you seek me out in the dust ? Peal out, where 
weak men are to be found ! I hear the message, but 
want faith. Miracle is the pet child of faith. I dare 
not aspire to those spheres from whence the glad 



( 32 ) 

tidings sound; and yet, accustomed to the sound from 
infancy, it still calls me back to life. In other days, 
the kiss of heavenly love descended upon me in the 
solemn stillness of the Sabbath; then the full-toned 
bell sounded so fraught with mystic meaning, and a 
prayer was vivid enjoyment. A longing, inconceiva- 
bly sweet, drove me forth to wander over wood and 
plain, and amidst a thousand burning tears, I felt a 
world rise up to me. This anthem harbingered the 
gay sports of youth, the unchecked happiness of spring 
festivity. Recollection now holds me back, with child- 
like feeling, from the last decisive step. Oh! sound 
on, ye sweet heavenly strains ! The tear is flowing, 
earth has me again. 

Chorus of Disciples. 

The Buried One, 

Already on high, 

Living, sublime, 

Has gloriously raised himself! 

He is in growing bliss, 

Near to creating joy. 

Ah ! on earth's bosom 

Are we for suffering here ! 

He left us, his own, 

Languishing here below ! 

Alas ! we weep for, 

Master, thy lot ! 



( 33 ) 

Chorus of Angels. 
Christ is arisen 
Out of corruption's lap. 
Joyfully tear yourselves 
Loose from your bonds ! 
Ye, in deeds giving praise to him, 
Love manifesting, 
Living brethren-like, 
Travelling and preaching him, 
Bliss promising — 
You is the Master nigh, 
For you is he here ! 



( 34 ) 



BEFORE THE GATE. 

Promenaders of all kinds pass out. 
Some Mechanics. 

Why that way ? 

Others. 

We are going up to the Jagerhaus. 

The Former. 
But we are going to the mill. 

A Mechanic. 
I advise you to go to the Wasserhof. 

A second. 
The road is not pleasant. 

The others. 
What shall you do ? 

A THIRD. 

I am going with the others. 

A FOURTH. 

Come up to Burgdorf ; you are there sure of finding 
the prettiest girls and the best beer, and rows of the 
first order. 

A FIFTH. 

You wild fellow, is your skin itching for the third 
time ? I cannot go ; I have a horror of the place. 



( 35 ) 

Servant Girl. 
No, no, I shall return to the town. 

Another. 

We shall find him to a certainty by those poplars. 
The First. 

That is no great gain for me. He will walk by 
your side. With you alone does he dance upon the 
green. What have I to do with your pleasures ? 
The Second. 
He is sure not to be alone to-day. The curly-head, 
he said, would be with him. 

Student. 

The devil ! how the brave wenches step out ; come 
along, brother, we must go with them. Strong beer, 
stinging tobacco, and a girl in full trim, — that now is 
my taste. 

Citizens' Daughters. 

Now do but look at those fine lads ! It is really a 
shame. They might have the best of company, and are 
running after these servant-girls. 

Second Student to the First. 

Not so fast ! there are two coming up behind ; they 
are trimly dressed out. One of them is my neighbour ; 
I have a great liking for the girl. They are walking 
in their quiet way, and yet will suffer us to join them 
in the end. 

d 2 



( 36 ) 
The First. 

No, brother. I do not like to be under restraint. 
Quick, lest we lose the game. The hand that twirls the 
mop on a Saturday, will fondle you best on Sundays. 
Townsman. 

No, the new Burgomaster is not to my taste; now 
that he has become so, he is daily getting bolder ; and 
what is he doing for the town? Is it not growing 
worse every day ? One is obliged to submit to more 
restraints than ever, and pay more than in any time 
before. 

Beggar sings. 

Ye good gentlemen, ye lovely ladies, so trimly 
dressed and rosy cheeked, be pleased to look upon 
me, to regard and relieve my wants. Do not suffer 
me to sing here in vain. The free-handed only is 
light-hearted. Be the day, which is a holiday to all, a 
harvest-day to me. 

Another Townsman. 

I know nothing better on Sundays and holidays than 
a chat of war and war's alarms, when people are 
fighting, behind, far away in Turkey. A man stands 
at the window, takes off his glass, and sees the painted 
vessels glide down the river; then returns home glad at 
heart at eve, and blesses peace and times of peace. 
Third Townsman. 

Aye, neighbour, I have no objection to that ; they 



( 37 ) 

may break one another's heads, and turn every thing 
topsy turvy, for aught I care ; only let things at home 
remain as they are. 

An Old Woman to the Citizens' Daughters. 
Hey dey : how smart ! the pretty young creatures. 
Who would not fall in love with you? Only not so 
proud ! it is all very well ; and what you wish, I should 
know how to put you in the way of getting. 

Citizen's Daughter. 
Come along, Agatha. I take care not to be seen 
with such witches in public ; true, on Saint Andrew's 
eve she showed me my future lover in flesh and blood. 
The other. 

She showed me mine in the glass, soldier-like, with 
other bold fellows; I look around, I seek him every 
where, but I can never meet with him. 

Soldier. 

Towns with lofty 

Walls and battlements, 

Maidens with proud 

Scornful thoughts, 

I fain would win. 

Bold the adventure, 

Noble the reward. 

And the trumpets 
Ave our summoners 



( 38 ) 

As to joy 

So to death. 

That is a storming, 

That is a life for you ! 

Maidens and towns 
Must surrender. 
Bold the adventure, 
Noble the reward — 
And the soldiers 
Are off. 

Faust and Wagner. 
Faust. 

River and rivulet are freed from ice by the gay 
quickening glance of the spring. The joys of hope are 
budding in the dale. Old winter, in his weakness, 
has retreated to the bleak mountains ; from thence he 
sends, in his flight, nothing but impotent showers of 
hail, in flakes, over the green-growing meadows. But 
the sun endures no white. Production and growth are 
every where stirring ; he is about to enliven every 
thing with hues. The landscape wants flowers; their 
places are supplied by men and women in gay attire. 
Turn and look back from this rising ground upon the 
town. Forth from the gloomy portal presses a motley 
crowd. Every one suns himself so delightedly to-day. 



( 39 ) 

They celebrate the rising of the Lord, for they them- 
selves have arisen; — from the dark rooms of mean 
houses, from the bondage of mechanical drudgery; 
from the confinement of gables and roofs, from the 
stifling narrowness of streets, from the venerable gloom 
of churches, are they raised up to the open light of day. 
But look, look! how quickly the mass is scattering 
itself through the gardens and fields ; how the river, 
broad and long, tosses many a merry bark upon its 
surface, and how this last wherry, overladen almost to 
sinking, moves off. Even from the farthest paths of 
the mountain, gay-coloured dresses glance upon us. 
I hear already the bustle of the village ; this is the true 
heaven of the multitude ; big and little are huzzaing 
joyously. Here, I am a man — here, I may be one. 
Wagner. 

To walk with you, Sir Doctor, is honour and profit. 
But I would not lose myself alone, because I am an 
enemy to coarseness of every sort. Fiddling, shouting, 
skittle-playing, are sounds thoroughly detestable to me. 
People run riot as if the devil was driving them, and 
call it merriment, call it singing. 

Rustics under the Lime Tree. 
Dance and Song. 
The swain dressed himself out for the dance, 
With party-coloured jacket, ribbon and garland. 



( 40 ) 

Smartly was he dressed ! 

The ring round the lime-tree was already full, 

And all were dancing like mad. 

Huzza! Huzza! 

Tira-lira-hara-la ! 
Merrily went the fiddle-stick, 

He pressed eagerly in, 
Gave a maiden a push 
With his elbow : 
The buxom girl turned round 
And said — " Now that I call stupid." 
Huzza! Huzza! 
Tira-lira-hara-la! 
" Dont be so rude." 

Yet nimbly sped it in the ring ; 
They turned right, they turned left, 
And all the petticoats were flying. 
They grew red, they grew warm, 
And rested panting arm-in-arm, 

Huzza! Huzza! 

Tira-lira-hara-la ! 
And elbow on hip. 

" Have done now ! don't be so impudent ! 
How many a man has cajoled and 



( 41 ) 

Deceived his betrothed." 
But he coaxed her aside, 
And far and wide echoed from the lime-tree 

Huzza! Huzza! 

Tira-lira-hara-la ! 
The screams and the fiddle-stick. 

Old Peasant. 
Doctor, this is really good of you, not to scorn us 
to-day, and, deep-learned as you are, to mingle in this 
crowd. Take then the fairest jug, which we have 
filled with fresh liquor : I pledge you in it, and pray 
aloud that it may do more than quench your thirst — 
may the number of drops which it holds be added to 
your days ! 

Faust. 

I accept the refreshing draught, and wish you all 
health and happiness in return. (The people come 
round him.) 

Old Peasant. 
Of a surety it is well done of you, to appear on this 
glad day. You have been our friend in evil days, 
too, before now. Many a one stands here alive whom 
your father tore from the hot fever's rage, when he 
stayed the pestilence. You too, at that time a young 
man, visited all the houses of the sick : many a dead 
body was borne forth, but you came out safe. You en- 



( 42 ) 

dured many a sore trial. The Helper above helped 
the helper. 

All. 

Health to the tried friend — may he long have the 
power to help ! 

Faust. 

Bend before Him on high, who teaches how to help, 
and sends help. ( He proceeds with Wagner.) 

Wagner. 

What a feeling, great man, must you experience at 
the honours paid you by this multitude. Happy he 
who can turn his gifts to so good an account. The 
father points thee out to his boy ; all ask, and press, 
and hurry round. The fiddle stops, the dancer pauses. 
As you go by, they range themselves in rows, caps fly 
into the air, and they all but bend the knee as if the 
Host were passing. 

Faust. 

Only a few steps farther, up to that stone yonder ! 
Here we will rest from our walk. Here many a time 
have I sat, thoughtful and solitary, and mortified my- 
self with prayer and fasting. Rich in hope, firm in 
faith, I thought to extort the stoppage of that pesti- 
lence from the Lord of Heaven, with tears, and sighs, 
and wringing of hands. The applause of the multitude 
now sounds like derision in my ears. Oh! couldst 
thou read in my inmost soul, how little father and son 



( 43 ) 

merit such honour ! My father was a worthy, sombre 
man, who, honestly but in his own way, tried phantas- 
tical experiments on nature and her hallowed circles ; 
who, in the company of adepts, shut himself up in 
the dark laboratory, and fused contraries together after 
numberless recipes. There was a red lion, a bold 
lover, married to the lily in the tepid bath, and then 
both, with open flame, tortured from one bridal cham- 
ber to another. If the young queen, with varied hues, 
then appeared in the glass — this was the physic ; the 
patients died, and no one inquired who recovered. 
Thus did we, with our hellish electuary, rage in these 
vales and mountains far worse than the pestilence. I 
myself have given the poison to thousands ; they pined 
away, and I must survive to hear the reckless mur- 
derers praised. 

Wagner. 

How can you trouble yourself on that account ? Is 
it not enough for a good man to practise conscientiously 
and scrupulously the art that has been entrusted to 
him ? If, in youth, you honour your father, you will 
willingly learn from him : if, in manhood, you extend 
the bounds of knowledge, your son may mount still 
higher than you. 

Faust. 

Oh, happy he, who can still hope to emerge from this sea 
of error ! We would use the very thing we know not, and 



( 44 ) 

cannot use what we know. But let us not embitter 
the blessing of this hour by such melancholy reflections. 
See, how the green-girt cottages shimmer in the setting 
Sun ! He bends and sinks — the day is overlived. Yon- 
der he hurries off, and quickens other life. Oh ! that I 
have no wing to lift me from the ground, to struggle 
after, for ever after, him ! I should see, in everlasting 
evening beams, the stilly world at my feet, — every height 
on fire, — every vale in repose, — the silver brooks flow- 
ing into golden streams. The rugged mountain, with 
all its dark defiles, would not then break my godlike 
course. — Already the sea, with its heated bays, opens 
on my enraptured sight. Yet the god seems at last to 
sink away. But the new impulse wakes. I hurry on 
to drink his everlasting light, — the day before me and 
the night behind, — the heavens above, and under me 
the waves. — A beauteous dream ! as it is passing, he is 
gone. Alas, no bodily wing will so easily keep pace 
with the wings of the mind. Yet it is the inborn ten- 
dency of our being for feeling to strive upwards and 
onwards ; when, over us, lost in the blue expanse, the 
lark sings its thrilling lay: when, over rugged, pine- 
covered heights, the outspread eagle soars ; and over 
< marsh and sea, the crane struggles onwards to her home. 
Wagner. 

I myself have often had strange fancies, but I never 
yet experienced an impulse of the kind. One soon 



( 45 ) 

looks one's fill of woods and fields. I shall never envy 
the wings of the bird. How differently the pleasures 
of the mind bear us, from book to book, from page to 
page. With them, winter nights become cheerful and 
bright, a happy life warms every limb, and, ah ! when 
you unroll a precious manuscript, all heaven comes 
down to you. 

Faust. 

Thou art conscious only of one impulse. Oh, never 
become acquainted with the other ! Two souls, alas, 
dwell in my breast : the one struggles to separate 
itself from the other. The one clings with obstinate 
fondness to the world, with organs like cramps of steel : 
the other lifts itself majestically from the mist to the 
realms of an exalted ancestry. Oh ! if there be spirits 
hovering in the air, ruling 'twixt earth and heaven, 
descend, ye, from your golden atmosphere, and lead 
me off to a new variegated life. Aye, were but a 
magic mantle mine, and could it bear me into foreign 
lands, I would not part with it for the costliest gar- 
ments — not for a king's mantle. 

Wagner. 

Invoke not the well-known troop, which diffuses it- 
self, streaming, through the atmosphere, and threatens 
danger in a thousand forms, from every quarter, to 
man. The sharp-fanged spirits, with arrowy tongues, 



( 46 ) 

press upon you from the north ; from the east, they 
come parching, and feed upon your lungs. If the 
south sends from the desert those which heap fire 
after fire upon thy brain ; the west brings the swarm 
which only refreshes, to drown fields, meadows, and 
yourself. They are fond of listening, ever alive for 
mischief: they obey with pleasure, because they take 
pleasure to delude : they feign to be sent from heaven, 
and lisp like angels when they lie. But let us go ; 
the earth is already grown grey, the air is chill, 
and the mist is falling ; it is only in the evening that 
we set a proper value on our home. Why do you 
stand still, and gaze with astonishment thus ? What 
can thus attract your attention in the gloaming 2 
Faust. 

Seest thou the black dog ranging through the corn 
and stubble ? 

Wagner. 

I saw him long ago ; he did not strike me as anything 
particular. 

Faust. 

Mark him well ! for what do you take the brute ? 
Wagner. 

For a poodle, who, in poodle-fashion, is puzzling out 
the track of his master. 

Faust. 

Dost thou mark how, in wide spiral curves, he quests 



( m ) 

round and ever nearer us ? and, if I err not, a line of 
fire follows upon his track. 

Wagner. 

I see nothing but a black poodle ; you may be de- 
ceived by some optical illusion. 

Faust. 

It appears to me, that he is drawing light, magical 
nooses, to form a toil around our feet. 

Wagner. 

I see him bounding hesitatingly and shyly round us, 
because, instead of his master, he sees two strangers. 
Faust. 

The circle grows narrow ; he is already close. 
Wagner. 

You see it is a dog, and no spirit. He growls and 
hesitates, crouches on his belly and wags with his tail — 
all as dogs are wont to do. 

Faust. 

Join our company ! — Hither ! 

Wagner. 

It is a poor fool of a poodle. Stand still, and he 
will sit on his hind legs ; speak to him, and he will 
jump up on you ; lose aught, and he will fetch it to 
you, and jump into the water for your stick. 

Faust. 

I believe you are right ; I find no trace of a spirit, 
and all is the result of training. 



( 48 ) 



Wagner. 

Even a wise man may become attached to a dog 
when he is well brought up. And he richly deserves 
all your favour, — he, the accomplished pupil of your 
students, as he is. (They enter the gate of the town.) 



( 49 ) 



STUDY. 

Faust, entering with the poodle. 

I have left plain and meadow veiled in deep night, 
which wakes the better soul within us with a holy feel- 
ing of foreboding awe. Wild desires, with deeds of 
violence, are now sunk in sleep : the love of man is 
stirring — the love of God is stirring now. 

Be quiet, poodle, run not hither and thither. What 
are you snuffling at on the threshold? Lie down be- 
hind the stove ; there is my best cushion for you. As 
without, upon the mountain path, you amused us by 
running and gambolling, so now receive my kindness 
as a welcome, quiet guest. 

Ah ! when the lamp is again burning friendlily in 
our narrow cell, all becomes clear in our bosom, — in 
the heart which knows itself. Reason begins to speak, 
and hope to bloom, again ; we yearn for the streams — 
oh yes, for the fountain, of life. 

Growl not, poodle ; the brutish sound ill harmonises 
with the hallowed tones which now possess my whole 
soul. We are accustomed to see men deride what they 
do not understand — to see them snarl at the good and 

E 



( 50 ) 

beautiful, which is often uncongenial to them. Is the 
dog disposed to snarl at it like them ? But ah ! I feel 
already that, in the best of moods, contentment wells 
no longer from my breast. Yet why must the stream 
be so soon dried up, and we again lie thirsting ? I 
have had so much experience of that! This want, 
however, admits of being compensated. We learn to 
prize that which is not of this earth ; we long for reve- 
lation, which nowhere burns more purely and brightly 
than in the New Testament. I feel impelled to open 
the original text — to translate for once, with upright 
feeling, the sacred original into my darling German. 
(He opens a volume, and disposes himself for the task. J 
It is written : " In the beginning was the Word." 
Here I am already at a stand — who will help me on ? 
I cannot possibly value the Word so highly ; I must 
translate it differently, if I am truly inspired by the 
spirit. It is written : " In the beginning was the 
Sense." Consider well the first line, that your pen be 
not over hasty. Is it the Sense that influences and 
produces everything? It should stand thus: " In the 
beginning was the Power." Yet, even as I am writing 
down this, something warns me not to keep to it. 
The spirit comes to my aid ! At once I see my way, 
and write confidently : «' In the beginning was the 
Deed." 



( 51 ) 

If I am to share the chamber with you, poodle, cease 
your howling — cease your barking. I cannot endure 
so troublesome a companion near to me. One of us 
two must quit the cell. It is with reluctance that I 
withdraw the rights of hospitality ; the door is open — 
the way is clear for you. But what do I see ! Can 
that come to pass by natural means ? Is it shadow — is 
it reality ? How long and broad my poodle grows ! He 
raises himself powerfully ; that is not the form of a 
dog ! What a phantom I have brought into the house ! 
— he looks already like a hippopotamus, with fiery 
eyes, terrific teeth. Ah ! I am sure of thee ! Solo- 
mon's key is good for such a half-hellish brood. 
Spirits in the passage. 

One is caught within ! 

Stay without, follow none ! 

As in the gin the fox, 

Quakes an old lynx of hell. 
But take heed ! 

Hover thither, hover back, 
Up and down, 

And he is loose ! 

If ye can aid him, 

Leave him not in the lurch ! 

For he has already done 

Much to serve us. 

E 2 



( 52 ) 
Faust. 

First, to confront the beast, 
Use I the spell of the four : 

Salamander shall glow, 

Undine twine, 

Sylph vanish, 

Kobold stir himself. 
Who did not know 

The elements, 
Their power and properties, 

Were no master 

Over the spirits. 

Vanish in flame, 

Salamander ! 
Rushingly flow together, 

Undine ! 
Shine in meteor beauty, 

Sylph ! 
Bring homely help, 
Incubus ! Incubus ! 
Step forth and make an end of it. 
No one of the four sticks in the beast. He lies un- 
disturbed and grins at me. I have not yet made him 
feel. Thou shalt hear me conjure stronger. 
Art thou, fellow, 
A scapeling from hell ? 



( 53 ) 

Then see this sign ! 
To which bend the dark troop. 
He is already swelling, and bristling his hair. 
Reprobate ! 

Can'st thou read him ? — 
The unoriginated, 
Unpronounceable, 
Through all heaven diffused, 
Vilely transpierced ? 
Driven behind the stove, it is swelling like an ele- 
phant ; it fills the whole space, it is about to vanish into 
mist. Rise not to the ceiling ! Down at thy master's 
feet! Thou see'st I do not threaten in vain. I will 
scorch thee with holy fire. Wait not for the thrice 
glowing light. Wait not for the strongest of my spells. 
Mephistopheles. 
( Comes forward as the mist sinks, in the dress of a 
travelling scholar, from, behind the stove.) 
Wherefore such a fuss ? What may be your pleasure ? 
Faust. 

This then was the kernel of the poodle ! A travelling 
scholar ? The casus makes me laugh. 

Mephistopheles. 

I salute your learned worship. You have made me 
sweat with a vengeance. 

Faust. 

What is thy name ? 



( 54 ) 

Mephistopheles. 
The question strikes me as trifling for one who rates 
the Word so low ; who, far estranged from all mere 
outward seeming, looks only to the essence of things. 
Faust. 

With such gentlemen as you, one may generally learn 
the essence from the name, since it appears but too 
plainly if your name be fly-god, destroyer, liar. Now 
then, who art thou ? 

Mephistopheles. 

A part of that power, which is ever willing evil and 
ever producing good. 

Faust. 

What am I to understand by this riddle ? 

Mephistopheles. 
I am the spirit which constantly denies, and that 
rightly ; for every thing that arises deserves to be an- 
nihilated. Therefore better were it that nothing should 
arise. Thus, all that you call sin, destruction, in a 
word, Evil, is my proper element. 

Faust. 

You call yourself a part, and yet stand whole before 
me. 

Mephistopheles. 
I tell thee the modest truth. Although man, that 
microcosm of folly, commonly esteems himself a whole, 
1 am a part of the part, which in the beginning was all : 



( 55 ) 

a part of the darkness which brought forth light, — the 
proud light, which now contests her ancient rank and 
space with mother night. But he succeeds not; since, 
strive as he will, he cleaves, as if wedded, to bodies. 
He streams from bodies, he gives beauty to bodies, he 
is broken by a body in his course, and so, I hope, will 
perish with bodies before long. 

Faust. 

Now I know thy dignified calling. Thou art not 
able to destroy on a great scale, and so art beginning 
on a small one. 

Mephistopheles. 
And, to say truth, I have made little progress in it. 
That which is opposed to nothing — the something, this 
clumsy world, much as I have tried already, I have not 
yet learnt how to come at it,— with waves, storms, 
earthquakes, fire. Sea and land remain precisely as 
they were after all ! And the damned stuff, the brood 
of brutes and men, there is no such thing as getting the 
better of them neither. How many I have already 
buried ! And new, fresh blood is constantly circulating ! 
Things go on so — it is enough to make one mad! 
From air, water, earth — in wet, dry, hot, cold — germs 
by thousands evolve themselves. Had I not reserved 
fire, I should have nothing apart for myself. 

Faust. 

So thou opposest thy cold devil's-fist, clenched in 



( 56 ) 

impotent malice, to the ever-stirring, the beneficent 
creating power. Try thy hand at something else, 
strange child of Chaos. 

Mephistopheles. 
We will certainly think about it — more of that anon ! 
Might I be permitted this time to depart ? 

Faust. 

I see not why you ask. I have now become ac- 
quainted with you; call on me in future as you feel 
inclined. Here is the window, here the door ; there is 
also a chimney for you. 

Mephistopheles. 
To confess the truth, a small obstacle prevents me 
from walking out — the wizard-foot upon your threshold. 
Faust. 

The Pentagram embarrasses you? Tell me then, 
thou child of hell, if that repels thee, how cam'st thou 
in ? How was such a spirit entrapped ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Mark it well ; it is not well drawn ; one angle, the 
outward one, is, as thou see'st, a little open. 

Faust. 

It is a lucky accident. Thou shouldst be my pri- 
soner then ? This is a chance hit. 

Mephistopheles. 

The poodle observed nothing when he jumped in. 
The thing looks differently now ; the devil cannot get 
out. 



( ) 
Faust. 

But why do you not go through the window 1 

Mephistopheles. 
It is a law binding on devils and phantoms that they 
must go out the same way they stole in. The first is 
free to us ; we are slaves as regards the second. 
Faust. 

Hell itself has its laws ? I am glad of it ; in that 
case a compact, a binding one, may be made with you 
gentlemen ? 

Mephistopheles. 
What is promised, that shalt thou enjoy to the letter ; 
not the smallest deduction shall be made from it. But 
this is not to be discussed so summarily, and we will 
speak of it the next time. But I must earnestly beg 
of you to let me go this once. 

Faust. 

Wait yet another moment, and tell me something 
worth telling. 

Mephistopheles. 
Let me go now ! I will soon come back ; you may 
then question me as you like. 

Faust. 

I have laid no snare for thee ; thou hast run into the 
net of thy own free will. Who has got hold of the 
devil, keep hold of him ; he will not catch him a 
second time in a hurry. 



( 58 ) 

Mephistopheles. 
If you like, I am ready to stay and keep you company 
here, but npon condition that I may exert my arts to 
beguile the time for you. 

Faust. 

I shall look on with pleasure ; you may do so, pro- 
vided only that the art be an agreeable one. 

Mephistopheles. 

My friend, you will gain more for your senses in this 
one hour, than in the whole monotonous year besides. 
What the delicate spirits sing to you, the beauteous 
images which they call up, are not an unsubstantial 
play of enchantment. Your smell will be gratified, 
your palate delighted, and your feelings entranced. 
No preparation is necessary; we are all assembled — 
strike up ! 

Spirits. 
Vanish, ye dark 
Arched ceilings above ! 
Mere charmingly look in 
The friendly blue sky ! 
Were the dark clouds 
Melted into thin air ! 
Little stars sparkle, 
Softer suns smile in. 
Etherial beauty 
Of the children of heaven. 



( 59 ) 

Tremulous bending 

Hovers across ; 
Longing desire 

Follows after. 
And the fluttering 
Ribbons of drapery 
Cover the plains, 
Cover the bower, 
Where lovers, 
Deep in thought, 
Give themselves for life. 
Bower on bower ! 
Sprouting tendrils ! 
Down-weighing grapes 
Gush into the vat 
Of the hard-squeezing press. 
The foaming wines 
Gush in brooks, 
Rustle through 
Pure, precious stones, 
Leave the heights 
Behind them lying, 
Broaden to seas, 
To form the charm of 
Green-growing hills. 
And the winced throng 



( 60 ) 

Sips happiness, 

Flies to meet the sun, 

Flies to meet the bright 

Isles, which dancingly 

Move on the waves ; 

Where we listen to 

Shouting in chorusses, 

Where we see 

Dancers on meads ; 

Who wander unchecked in 

The free air about. 

Some are clambering 

Over the heights, 

Some are swimming 

Over the seas, 

Others are hovering 

In the mid air. 

All towards the life, 

All towards the far away 

Sweet loving stars of 

Favour and bliss. 

Mephistopheles. 
He slumbers! Well done, my airy, delicate young- 
sters, ye have fairly sung him to sleep. I am your 
debtor for this concert. Thou art not yet the man to 
hold fast the devil ! Play around him with sweet 
dreamy visions ; plunge him in a sea of illusion. 



( 61 ) 

But to break the spell of this threshold I need a rat's 
tooth. I have not to conjure long; one is already 
rustling hither, and will hear me in a moment. The 
lord of rats and mice, of flies, frogs, bugs, and lice, 
commands thee to venture forth and gnaw this thres- 
hold where he has smeared it with oil. Thou com'st 
hopping forth already! Instantly to the work! The 
point which repelled me is towards the front on the 
ledge ; one bite more, and it is done. — Now Faust, 
dream on, till we meet again. 

Faust, waking. 
Am I then once again deceived ? Does the throng 
of spirits vanish thus ? Was it in a lying dream that 
the devil appeared to me, and was it a poodle that 
escaped ? 



( 62 ) 



STUDY. 

Faust. — Mephistopheles. 
Faust. 

Does any one knock? Come in! Who wants to 
disturb me again ? 

Mephistopheles. 

It is I. 

Faust. 

Come in ! 

Mephistopheles. 
You must say so three times. 

Faust. 

Come in, then ! 

Mephistopheles. 
So far, so good. We shall come to some agreement, 
I hope; for, to chase away your fancies, I am here, 
like a youth of condition, in a coat of scarlet laced with 
gold, a mantle of stiff silk, a cock's feather in my hat, 
and a long pointed sword at my side. And to make 
no more words about it, my advice to you is to array 
yourself in the same manner immediately, that unre- 
strained, emancipated, you may try what life is. 
Faust. 

In every dress, I dare say, I shall feel the torture of 



c m ) 

the contracted life of this earth. I am too old for 
mere play, too young to be without a wish. What 
can the world afford me? — " Thou shalt renounce!" 
" Thou shalt renounce !" That is the eternal song 
which is rung in every one's ears; which, our whole 
life long, every hour is hoarsely singing to us. In 
the morning I wake only to horror. I could fain weep 
bitter tears to see the day, which in its course will 
not accomplish a wish for me, no, not one; which, 
with wayward captiousness, weakens even the pre- 
sentiment of every joy, and disturbs the creation of 
my busy breast by a thousand ugly realities. Then 
again, at the approach of night, I must stretch myself 
in anguish on my couch ; here, too, no rest is vouch- 
safed to me ; wild dreams are sure to harrow me up. 
The God that dwells in my bosom, that can stir my 
inmost soul, that sways all my energies — he is power- 
less as regards things without; and thus existence is a 
load to me, death an object of earnest prayer, and life 
detestable. 

Mephistopheles. 
And yet death is never an entirely welcome guest. 
Faust. 

Oh! happy the man around whose brows he wreathes 
the bloody laurel in the glitter of victory — whom, after 
the maddening dance, he finds in a maiden's arms. Oh 



( 64 ) 

that I had sunk away, enrapt, exanimate, before the 
great spirit's power! 

Mephistopheles. 
And yet a certain person did not drink a certain 
brown juice on a certain night. 

Faust. 

Playing the spy, it seems, is thy amusement. 

Mephistopheles. 
I am not omniscient ; but I know much. 

Faust. 

Since a sweet familiar tone drew me from those 
thronging horrors, and played on what of childlike 
feeling remained in me with the concording note of 
happier times, — my curse on every thing which entwines 
the soul with its jugglery, and chains it to this den of 
wretchedness with blinding and nattering influences. 
Accursed, first, be the lofty opinion in which the mind 
wraps itself! Accursed, the blinding of appearances, 
by which our senses are enslaved! Accursed, what 
plays the pretender to us in dreams, — the cheat of 
glory, of the lasting of a name ! Accursed, what 
flatters us as property, as wife and child, as slave 
and plough! Accursed be Mammon when he stirs 
us to bold deeds with treasures, when he smoothes 
our couch for indolent delight ! Accursed, the balsam- 
juice of the grape! Accursed, that highest grace of 



( 65 ) 



love! Accursed be Hope, accursed be Faith, and 
accursed, above all, be Patience ! 



Chorus of Invisible Spirits. 
Woe, woe, 

Thou hast destroyed it, 
The beautiful world, 
With violent hand ; 



A demigod has shattered it to pieces ! 
We bear away 

The wrecks into nothingness. 

And wail over 

The beauty that is lost. 

Mighty 

Among the sons of earth, 
Proud one, 
Build it again, 
Build it up in thy bosom ! 
A new career of life, 
With unstained sense begin ; 
And new lays 
Shall peal out thereupon. 
Mephistopheles. 



These are the little ones of my train. Listen, how, 
with wisdom beyond their years, they counsel you to 
pleasure and action. Out into the world, away from 

F 



It tumbles, it falls abroad. 




( 66 ) 

solitariness, where the senses and the juices of life 
stagnate — would they fain lure you. 

Cease to trifle with your grief — which, like a vul- 
ture, feeds upon your vitals. The worst company will 
make you feel that you are a man amongst men. Yet 
I do not mean to thrust you amongst the pack. I am 
none of your great men ; but if, united with me, you 
will wend your way through life, I will readily accom- 
modate myself to be your's upon the spot. I am your 
companion; and, if it suits you, your servant, your 
slave ! 

Faust. 

And what am I to do for you in return? 

Mephistopheles. 
For that you have still a long day of grace. 
Faust. 

No, no ; the devil is a selfish one, and is not likely 
to do, for God's sake, what may advantage another. 
Speak the condition plainly out ; such a servant is a 
dangerous inmate. 

Mephistopheles. 
I will bind myself to your service here, and never 
sleep nor slumber at your call. When we meet on the 
other side, you shall do as much for me. 

Faust. 

I care little about the other side : if you first knock 
this world to pieces, the other may arise afterwards 



( 67 ) 

if it will. My joys flow from this earth, and this sun 
shines upon my sufferings : if I can only separate my- 
self from them, what will and can, may come to pass. 
I will hear no more about it — whether there be hating 
and loving in the world to come, and whether there be 
an Above or Below in those spheres, like our own. 
Mepi-iistopheles. 
In this mood you may venture. Bind yourself ; and 
during these days you shall be delighted by my arts ; 
I will give thee what no human being has ever seen as 
yet. 

Faust. 

What, poor devil, wilt thou give ? Was the mind of 
man, in its high aspiring, ever comprehended by the like 
of thee? But if thou hast food which never satisfies; 
ruddy gold, which, volatile, like quicksilver, melts 
away in the hand ; a game, at which one never wins ; 
a maiden, who, on my breast, is already ogling my 
neighbour ; the bright god-like joy of honour, which 
vanishes like a meteor ! — Show me the fruit which rots 
before it is plucked, and trees which every day grow 
green anew. 

Mephistopheles. 
Such a task affrights me not. I have such treasures 
at my disposal. But, my good friend, the time will 
come in its turn when we may feast on what is really 
good in peace. 

f 2 



( 08 ) 
Faust. 

If ever I lie down, calm and composed, upon a 
couch, be there at once an end of me. If thou canst 
ever flatteringly delude me into self-complacency — if 
thou canst cheat me into enjoyment, be that day my 
last. I offer the wager. 

Mephistopheles. 

Done ! 

Faust. 

And my hand upon it ! If I ever say to the passing 
moment — " Stay, thou art so fair!" then mayst thou 
cast me into chains ; then will I readily perish ; then 
may the death-bell toll ; then art thou free from thy 
service. The clock may stand, the index hand may 
fall : be time a thing no more for me ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Think well of it ; we shall bear it in mind. 
Faust. 

You have a perfect right so to do. I have formed 
no rash estimate of myself. As I am, I am a slave ; 
what care I, whether thine or another's. 

Mephistopheles. 
This very day, at the doctor's feast, I shall enter 
upon my duty as servant. Only one thing — to guard 
against accidents, I must trouble you for a line or two. 
Faust. 

Pedant, dost thou, too, require writing ? Hast thou 



( 69 ) 

never known man nor man's word ? Is it not enough 
that my word of mouth disposes of my days for all 
eternity ? Does not the world rave on in its currents, 
and am I to be bound by a promise ? Yet this prejudice 
is implanted in our hearts : who would willingly free 
himself from it? Happy the man who bears truth pure 
in his breast ; he will never have cause to repent any 
sacrifice ! But a parchment, written and stamped, is 
a spectre which all shrink from. The word dies away 
in the pen ; in wax and leather is the mastery. What, 
evil spirit, wouldst thou of me ? Brass, marble, parch- 
ment, paper ? Shall I write with style, graver, pen ? 
I leave the choice to thee. 

Mephistopheles. 
How can you put yourself in a passion and over- 
work your oratory in this manner? Any scrap will do: 
you will subscribe your name with a drop of blood. 
Faust. 

If this will fully satisfy you, the whim shall be com- 
plied with. 

Mephistopheles. 
Blood is quite a peculiar sort of juice. 

Faust. 

But fear not that I shall break this compact. What 
I promise, is precisely what all my energies are striving 
for. I have aspired too high: I belong only to thy class. 
The Great Spirit has spurned me; Nature shuts herself 
against me. The thread of thought is snapped ; I have 



( 70 ) 

long loathed every sort of knowledge. Let us quench the 
glow of passion in the depths of sensuality ; let every 
wonder be forthwith prepared beneath the hitherto im- 
pervious veil of sorcery. Let us cast ourselves into the 
rushing of time, into the rolling of accident. There 
pain and pleasure, success and disappointment, may 
succeed each other as they will — man's proper element 
is restless activity. 

Mephistopheles. 
Nor end nor limit is prescribed to you. If it is your 
pleasure to sip the sweets of every thing, to snatch at 
all as you fly by, much good may it do you — only fall 
to, and don't be coy. 

Faust. 

1 tell thee again, pleasure is not the question : I de- 
vote myself to the intoxicating whirl; — to the most 
agonizing enjoyment — to enamoured hate — to animat- 
ing vexation. My breast, cured of the thirst of know- 
ledge, shall henceforth bare itself to every pang. I will 
enjoy in my own heart's core all that is parcelled out 
amongst mankind; grapple in spirit with the highest 
and deepest ; heap the weal and woe of the whole race 
upon my breast, and thus dilate my own individuality 
to theirs, and perish, in the end, like them. 

Mephistopheles. 

Oh, believe me, who many thousand years have 
chewed the cud on this hard food, that from the cradle 



( 71 ) 

to the bier, no human being digests the old leaven. 
Believe a being like me, this Whole is only made for a 
god. He exists in an undying blaze of brightness ; us 
he has brought into darkness ; and for you, — only day 
and night are proper for you. 

Faust. 

But I will. 

Mephistopheles. 
That is well enough to say ! But I am only troubled 
about one thing ; time is short, art is long. I should 
suppose you would suffer yourself to be persuaded. 
Take a poet to counsel ; make the gentleman set his 
imagination at work, and heap all noble qualities on 
your honoured head, — the lion's courage, the stag's 
swiftness, the fiery blood of the Italian, the enduring 
firmness of the North. Make him find out the secret 
of combining magnanimity with cunning, and of being 
systematically in love with the burning desires of 
youth. I myself should like to know such a gentle- 
man — I would call him Mr. Microcosm. 

Faust. 

What, then, am I, if it be not possible to attain the 
crown of humanity, which every sense is striving for ? 
Mephistopheles. 

Thou art in the end — what thou art. Put on wigs 
with millions of curls — set thy foot upon ell-high 
socks, — thou abidest ever what thou art. 



( 72 ) 
Faust. 

I feel it; in vain have I scraped together and accu- 
mulated all the treasures of the human mind upon 
myself ; and when I sit down at the end, still no new 
power wells up within : I am not a hair's breath higher, 
not a whit nearer the Infinite. 

Mephistopheles. 

My good Sir, you see things precisely as they are 
ordinarily seen; we must manage matters better, be- 
fore the joys of life pass away from us. What the 
deuce ! you have surely hands and feet and head and 

. And what I enjoy with spirit, is that then the 

less mine ? If I can pay for six horses, are not their 
powers mine ? I dash along and am a proper man, 
as if I had four-and-twenty legs. Quick, then, have 
done with poring, and straight away into the world 
with me. I tell you, a fellow that speculates is like 
a brute driven in a circle on a barren heath by an 
evil spirit, whilst fair green meadow lies every where 
around. 

Faust. 

How shall we set about it ? 

Mephistopheles. 

We will set out directly. What a place of martyrdom ! 
what a precious life to lead ! — wearying one's self and a 
set of youngsters to death. Leave that to your neigh- 
bour, Mr. Paunch ! Why will you plague yourself to 



( 73 ) 

thrash straw? The best that you can know, you dare 
not tell the lads. Even now I hear one in the passage. 
Faust. 

I cannot possibly see him. 

Mephistopheles. 

The poor boy has waited long ; he must not be sent 
away disconsolate. Come, give me your cap and gown : 
the masking dress will become me to admiration. 

(He changes his dress.) 
Now trust to my wit. I require but a quarter of an 
hour. In the mean time prepare for our pleasant trip. 

(Exit Faust.J 
Mephistopheles in Faust's gown. 

Only despise reason and knowledge, the highest 
strength of humanity ; only permit thyself to be con- 
firmed in delusion and sorcery-work by the spirit of 
lies, — and I have thee unconditionally. Fate has given 
him a spirit which is ever pressing onwards uncurbed, — 
whose overstrained striving o'erleaps the joys of earth. 
Him will I drag through the wastes of life, through 
vapid unmeaningness. He shall sprawl, stand amazed, 
stick fast, — and meat and drink shall hang, a bait to 
his insatiableness, before his craving lips: he shall 
pray for refreshment in vain ; and had he not already 
given himself up to the devil, he would, notwithstand- 
ing, infallibly be lost. 



( 74 ) 

(A Student enters.) 
Student. 

I am but just arrived, and come, full of devotion, to 
address and become acquainted with a man whom all 
name with reverence. 

Mephistopheles. 

I am flattered by your attention. You see a man, 
like many others. Have you yet made any inquiry 
elsewhere ? 

Student. 

Interest yourself for me, I pray you. I come with 
every good disposition, a little money, and youthful 
spirits ; my mother could hardly be brought to part 
with me, but I would fain learn something worth learn- 
ing in the world. 

Mephistopheles. 
You are here at the very place for it. 

Student. 

Honestly speaking, I already wish myself away. 
These walls, these halls, are by no means to my taste. 
The space is exceedingly confined; there is not a tree, 
nothing green, to be seen; and in the halls, on the 
benches, — hearing, sight, and thinking fail me. 
Mephistopheles. 

It all depends on habit. Thus, at first, the child 
does not take kindly to the mother's breast, but soon 



( 75 ) 

finds a pleasure in nourishing itself. Just so will you 
daily experience a greater pleasure at the breasts of 
wisdom. 

Student. 

I shall hang delightedly upon her neck : do but tell 
me how I am to attain it. 

Mephistopheles. 

Tell me, before you go further, what faculty you fix 
upon ? 

Student. 

I should wish to be profoundly learned, and should 
like to comprehend what is upon earth or in heaven, 
science and nature. 

Mephtstopheles. 
You are here upon the right scent ; but you must 
not suffer your attention to be distracted. 

Student. 

I am heart and soul in the cause. A little relaxation 
and pastime, to be sure, would not come amiss on 
bright summer holidays. 

Mephistopheles. 

Make the most of time, it glides away so fast. But 
method teaches you to gain time. For this reason, my 
good friend, I advise you to begin with a course of 
logic. In this study, the mind is well broken in, — laced 
up in Spanish boots, so that it creeps circumspectly 
along the path of thought, and runs no risk of flicker- 



( 76 ) 

ing, ignis-fatuus-like, in all directions but the right. 
Then many a day will be spent in teaching you that 
one, two, three — is necessary for that which formerly 
you hit off at a blow, as easily as eating and drinking. 
It is with the fabric of thought as with a weaver's 
master-piece ; where one treadle moves a thousand 
threads : the shuttles shoot backwards and forwards : 
the threads flow unseen : ties, by thousands, are struck 
off at a blow. Your philosopher, — he steps in and 
proves to you, it must have been so : the first would be 
so, the second so, and therefore the third and fourth 
so ; and if the first and second were not, the third and 
fourth would never be. The students of all countries 
put a high value on this, but none have become weavers. 
He who wishes to know and describe any thing living, 
seeks first to drive the spirit out of it ; he has then the 
parts in his hand ; only, unluckily, the spiritual bond 
is wanting. Chemistry terms it encheiresis naturce, and 
mocks herself without knowing it. 

Student. 

I cannot quite comprehend you. 

Mephistopheles. 

You will soon improve in that respect, if you learn 
to reduce and classify all things properly. 

Student. 

I am so confounded by all this ; I feel as if a mill- 
wheel was turning round in my head. 



( 77 ) 

Mephistopheles. 
In the next place, before every thing else, you must 
set to at metaphysics. There see that you conceive 
profoundly what is not made for human brains. A fine 
word will stand you in stead for what enters and what 
does not enter there. And be sure, for this half year, 
to adopt the strictest regularity. You will have five 
lectures every day. Be in as the clock strikes. Be 
well prepared beforehand with the paragraphs care- 
fully conned, that you may see the better that he says 
nothing but what is in the book ; yet write away as 
zealously as if the Holy Ghost were dictating to you. 
Student. 

You need not tell me that a second time. I can 
imagine how useful it is. For what one has in black 
and white, one can carry home in comfort. 

Mephistopheles. 
But choose a faculty. 

Student. 

I cannot reconcile myself to jurisprudence. 
Mephistopheles. 

I cannot much blame you. I know the nature of this 
science. Laws descend, like an inveterate hereditary 
disease ; they trail from generation to generation, and 
glide imperceptibly from place to place. Reason be- 
comes nonsense ; beneficence, a plague. Woe to thee 
that thou art a grandson! Of the law that is born 



( 78 ) 

with us — of that, unfortunately, there is never a ques- 
tion. 

Student. 

You increase my repugnance. Oh, happy he, whom 
you instruct. I should almost like to study theology. 
Meppiistopheles. 

I do not wish to mislead you. As for this science, 
it is so difficult to avoid the wrong way; there is so 
much hidden poison in it, which is hardly to be distin- 
guished from the medicine. Here, again, it is best 
to attend but one master, and swear by his words. 
Generally speaking, stick to words ; you will then pass 
through the safe gate into the temple of certainty. 
Student. 

But there must be some meaning connected with the 
word. 

Mephistopheles. 
Right ! Only we must not be too anxious about that ; 
for it is precisely where meaning fails that a word 
comes in most opportunely. Disputes may be admira- 
bly carried on with words ; a system may be built with 
words ; words form a capital subject for belief; a word 
admits not of an iota being taken from it. 

Student. 

Your pardon, I detain you by my many questions, 
but I must still trouble you. Would you be so kind 
as to add a pregnant word or two on medicine. Three 



( 79 ) 

years is a short time, and the field, God knows, is far 
too wide. If one has but a hint, one can feel one's 
way along further. 

Mephistopheles, aside. 

I begin to be tired of the prosing style. I must play 
the devil properly again. ( aloud.) 

The spirit of medicine is easy to be caught; you 
study through the great and little world, and let things 
go on in the end — as it pleases God. It is vain that 
you wander scientifically about ; no man will learn 
more than he can ; he who avails himself of the passing 
moment — that is the proper man. You are tolerably 
well built, nor will you be wanting in boldness, and if 
you do but confide in yourself, other souls will confide 
in you. In particular, learn how to treat the women : 
their eternal ohs ! and ahs ! so thousandfold, are to 
be cured from a single point, and if you only assume a 
moderately demure air, you will have them all under 
your thumb. You must have a title, to convince 
them that your art is superior to most others, and 
then you are admitted from the first to all those little 
privileges which another spends years in coaxing for. 
Learn how to feel the pulse adroitly, and boldly clasp 
them, with hot wanton looks, around the tapering hip, 
to see how tightly it is laced. 

Student. 

There is some sense in that ; one sees at any rate 
the where and the how. 



( 80 ) 

Mephistopheles. 
Grey, my dear friend, is all theory, and green the 
golden tree of life. 

Student. 

I vow to you, all is as a dream to me. Might I 
trouble you another time to hear your wisdom speak 
upon the grounds. 

Mephistopheles. 
I am at your service, to the extent of my poor 
abilities. 

Student. 

I cannot possibly go away without placing my com- 
mon-place book in your hands. Do not grudge me 
this token of your favour. 

Mephistopheles. 
With all my heart. (He writes and gives it back.) 

Student reads. 
Eritis sicut Deus, scientes bonum et malum. 

(He closes the book reverentially, and takes his 
leave.) 

Mephistopheles. 
Only follow the old saying and my cousin the snake, 
and some time or other you, with your likeness to God, 
will be sorry enough. 

Faust enters. 

Whither now? 

Mephistopheles. 
Where you please ; to see the little, then the great 



( 81 ) 

world. With what joy, what pleasure, will you revel 
through the course. 

Faust. 

But with my long beard, I want the easy manners of 
life. I shall fail in the attempt. I never knew how to 
accommodate myself to the world ; I feel so little in 
the presence of others. I shall be in a constant state 
of embarrassment. 

Mephistopheles. 
My dear friend, all that will come of its own accord ; 
so soon as you feel confidence in yourself, you know 
the art of life. 

Faust. 

How, then, are we to start ? Where are your car- 
riages, horses, and servants ? 

Mephistopheles. 

We have but to spread out the mantle ; that shall 
bear us through the air. Only you will take no heavy 
baggage on this bold trip. A little inflammable air, 
which I will prepare, will lift us quickly from this 
earth ; and if we are light, we shall mount rapidly. I 
wish you joy of your new course of life. 



( 82 ) 



AUERBACH'S CELLAR IN LEIPZIG. 

(Drinking bout of merry Fellows.) 

Frosch. 

Will no one drink ? no one laugh ? I will teach you 
to grin. Why you are like wet straw to-day, yet at 
other times you blaze brightly enough. 

Brander. 

That is your fault ; you contribute nothing towards 
it : no nonsense, no beastliness — 
Frosch. 

( Throws a glass of wine over Brander's head.) 
There are both for you ! 

Brander. 

You double hog 4 

Frosch. 
Why you wanted me to be so. 

Siebel. 

Out with him who quarrels ! With open heart strike 
up the song ! swill and shout ! holla, holla, ho ! 
Altmayer. 

Woe is me ! I am lost. Cotton, here ! the knave 
splits my ears. 



( 83 ) 

SlEBEL. 

It is only when the vault echoes again, that one feels 
the true power of the bass. 

Frosch. 

Right: out with him who takes any thing amiss. 
A ! taralara, da! 

Altmayer. 

A ! taralara ! 

Frosch. 
Our throate are tuned. 

( He sings.) 

The dear, holy Romish empire, how holds it still 
together? 

Brander. 

A nasty song! psha, a political song! an offensive 
song! Thank God every morning of your life, that 
you have not the Romish empire to care for. I, at 
least, esteem it no slight gain that I am not emperor 
nor chancellor. But we cannot do without a head. 
We will choose a pope. You know what sort of quali- 
fication turns the scale, and elevates the man. 

(Trosch sings.) 

Soar up, Madam Nightingale, give my sweetheart 
ten thousand greetings for me. 

SlEBEL. 

No greeting to the sweetheart; I will not hear 
of it. 



( 84 ) 
Frosch. 

Greeting to the sweetheart, and a kiss too ! Thou 
shalt not hinder me. 

( He sings.) 
Open bolts ! in stilly night. 
Open bolts ! the lover wakes. 
Shut bolts ! at morning's dawn. 
Siebel. 

Aye, sing, sing on, and praise and celebrate her; 
my turn for laughing will come. She has taken me in ; 
she will do the same for you. May she have a hobgoblin 
for a lover. He may toy with her on a cross way. An 
old he-goat, on his return from the Blocksberg, may 
wicker good night to her on the gallop. A hearty fellow 
of genuine flesh and blood is far too good for the wench. 
I will hear of no greeting, unless it be to smash her 
windows. 

Brander, striking on the table. 
Attend, attend ; listen to me ! You gentlemen must 
allow me to know something of life. Love-sick folks 
sit here, and I must give them something suitable to 
their condition by way of good night. Attend ! a song 
of the newest cut ! and strike boldly in with the chorus. 
( He sings.) 

There was a rat in the cellar, who lived on nothing 
but fat and butter, and had raised himself up a paunch 
fit for Doctor Luther himself. The cook had laid 



( 85 ) 

poison for him ; then the world became too hot for 
him, as if he had love in his body. 

Chorus. — As if he had love in his body. 

He ran round, he ran out, he drank of every puddle ; 
he gnawed and scratched the whole house, but his fury 
availed nothing ; he gave many a bound of agony ; the 
poor beast was soon done for, as if he had love in his 
body. 

Chorus. — As if &c. 

He came running into the kitchen, for sheer pain, in 
open daylight, fell on the earth and lay convulsed, 
and panted pitiably. Then the poisoner exclaimed, 
with a laugh — Ha ! he is at his last gasp, as if he had 
love in his body. 

Chorus. — As if &c. 

Siebel. 

How the flats chuckle ! It is a fine thing, to be sure, 
to lay poison for the poor rats. 

Brander. 

They stand high in your favour, I dare say. 
Altmayer. 

The bald-pated paunch! The misadventure makes 
him humble and mild. He sees in the swollen rat his 
own image drawn to the life. 

Faust and Mephistopheles. 
Mephistopheles. 
Before all things else, I must bring you into merry 



( S6 ) 

company, that you may see how lightly life may be 
passed. These people make every day a feast. With 
little wit and much self-complacency, each turns round 
in the narrow circle-dance, like kittens playing with 
their tails. So long as they have no headach to com- 
plain of, and so long as they can get credit from their 
host, they are merry and free from care. 

Brander. 

They are just off their journey ; one may see as 
much from their strange manner. They have not been 
here an hour. 

Frosch. 

Thou art right; Leipsic is the place for me : it is a 
little Paris, and gives the finishing air. 

Siebel. 

What do you take the strangers to be ? 

Frosch. 

Let me alone ; in the drinking of a bumper I will 
worm it out of them as easily as draw a child's tooth. 
They appear to me to be noble ; they have a proud 
and discontented look. 

Brander. 
Mountebanks to a certainty, I wager. 

Altmayer. 

Likely enough. 

Frosch. 

Now mark ; I will smoke them. 



( 87 ) 

Mephistopheles to Faust. 
These people would never scent the devil, if he had 
them by the throat. 

Faust. 
Good morrow, gentlemen. 

SlEBEL. 

Thanks, and good morrow to you. 

C Aside, looking at Mephistopheles askance. J 
What ! does the fellow halt on the foot ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Will you permit us to sit down with you. We shall 
have company to cheer us instead of good liquor, which 
is not to be had. 

Altmayee. 
You seem a very dainty gentleman. 

FroscH. 

I dare say, you are lately from Rippach ? Did you 
sup with Mr. Hans before you left ? 

Mephistopheles. 
We passed him without stopping to-day. The last 
time we spoke to him, he had much to say of his cou- 
sins ; he charged us with compliments to each. 

( With an inclination towards Frosch. 
Altmayer (aside.) 
Thou hast it there ! he knows a thing or two. 

SlEBEL. 

A knowing fellow ! 



( 88 ) 
Frosch. 

Only wait, I shall have him presently. 

Mephistopheles. 
If I am not mistaken, we heard some practised voices 
singing in chorus? No doubt, singing must echo 
admirably from this vaulted roof. 

Frosch. 
I dare say you are a dilettante. 

Mephistopheles. 
Oh, no! The power is weak, but the desire is 
strong. 

Altmayer. 

Give us a song. 

Mephistopheles. 
As many as you like. 

Siebel. 
Only let it be bran new. 

Mephistopheles. 
We are just returned from Spain, the fair land of 
wine and song. 

(He smgs.J 

There was once upon a time a king who had a great 
flea — 

Frosch. 

Hark ! A flea ! Did you catch that ? A flea is a 
fine sort of chap. 



( 89 ) 

Mephistopheles sings. 
There was once upon a time a king ; he had a great 
flea, and was as fond of it as if it had been his own 
son. Then he called his tailor ; the tailor came. 
" There, measure the youngster for clothes, and mea- 
sure him for breeches." 

Brander. 

Only don't forget to tell the tailor to measure with 
the greatest nicety, and, as he loves his head, to make 
the breeches sit smoothly. 

Mephistopheles sings. 

He was now attired in velvet and silk, had ribbons 
on his coat, had a cross besides, and was forthwith 
made minister, and had a great star. Then his brothers 
and sisters also became great folks. And the ladies 
and gentlemen at court were dreadfully tormented ; 
from the queen to the nurse they were pricked and 
bitten, yet dared not crack nor scratch them away. 
But we crack and stifle fast enough when one pricks. 

Chorus. — But we crack &c. 

Frosch. 

Bravo ! bravo ! That was capital. 

SlEBEL. 

So perish every flea. 

Brander. 

Point your fingers, and nick them cleverly. 



( 90 ) 

Altmayer. 
Liberty for ever ! Wine for ever ! 

Mephistopheles. 
I would willingly drink a glass in honour of liberty, 
were your wine a thought better. 

SlEBEL. 

You had better not let us hear that again ! 
Mephistopheles. 

I am afraid of giving offence to the landlord, or I 
would treat these worthy gentlemen out of our own 
stock. 

Siebel. 

O, bring it in ; I take the blame upon myself. 
Frosch. 

Give us a good glass, and we shall not be sparing of 
our praise ; only don't let your samples be too small ; 
for if I am to give an opinion, I require a regular 
mouthful. 

Altmayer ( aside.) 
They are from the Rhine, I guess. 

Mephistopheles. 
Bring a gimblet. 

Brander. 

What for ? You surely have not the casks at the 
door ? 

Altmayer. 

Behind there, is a tool chest of the landlord's. 



( 91 ) 

Mephistopheles (taking the gimblet) to Frosch. 
Now say, what wine would you wish to taste ? 
Frosch. 

What do you mean ? Have you so many sorts ? 

Mephistopheles. 
I give every man his choice. 

Altmayer to Frosch. 
Ah ! you begin to lick your lips already. 

Frosch. 

Well ! if I am to choose, I will take Rhine wine. 
Our father-land affords the best of gifts. 
Mephistopheles (boring a hole in the edge of the table 
where Frosch is sitting.) 
Get a little wax to make stoppers immediately. 

Altmayer. 
Ah ! these are juggler's tricks. 

Mephistopheles to Brander. 
And you ? 

Brander. 

I choose champaigne, and right sparkling it must be. 
(^Mephistopheles bores again ; one of the others 
has in the mean time prepared the wax-stoppers 
and stopped the holes.) 
One cannot always avoid what is foreign ; what is 
good often lies so far off. A true German cannot 
abide Frenchmen, but has no objection to their wine. 



( 92 ) 



Siebel ( as Mephistopheles approaches him.) 

I must own I do not like acid wine ; give me a glass 
of genuine sweet. 

Mephistopheles bores. 
You shall have Tokay in a twinkling. 

Altmayer. 

No, gentlemen, look me in the face. I see plainly 
you are only making fun of us. 

Mephistopheles. 

Ha! ha! that would be taking too great a liberty 
with such distinguished guests. Quick ! only speak 
out at once. What wine can I have the pleasure of 
serving you with ? 

Altmayer. 

With any ! there is no need of much questioning. 

( After all the holes are bored and stopped.) 
Mephistopheles ( with strange gestures.) 
The vine bears grapes. 
The he-goat bears horns. 
Wine is juicy, 
Vines are wood ; 

The wooden table can also give wine. 
A deep insight into nature ! 
Behold a miracle, only have faith ! 
Now draw the stoppers and drink. 



( 93 ) 
All. 

(As they draw the stoppers, and the wine he chose 
runs into each man's glass.) 
Oh ! beautiful spring that flows for us ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Only take care not to spill any of it. 

(They drink repeatedly.) 
All sing. 

We are as happy as cannibals — as five hundred 
swine. 

Mephistopheles. 
These people are now in their glory ; mark, how 
merry they are. 

Faust. 

I should like to depart now. 

Mephistopheles. 
Now attend to this ; brutishness will display itself 
right gloriously. 

Siebel. 

( Drinks carelessly ; the wine is spilt upon the ground, 

and turns to flame. ) 
Help ! fire, help ! Hell is on fire. 

Mephistopheles ( conjuring the flame). 
Be quiet, friendly element ! 

{To Siebel.) 

This time it was only a drop of the fire of purgatory. 



( 94 ) 

SlEBEL. 

What may that be ? Hold ! you shall pay dearly for 
it. It seems that you do not know us. 

Frosch. 

He had better not try that a second time. 

Altmayer. 

I think we had better send him packing quietly. 

SlEBEL. 

What, Sir, dare you play off your hocus pocus here ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Silence, old wine-butt. 

Siebel. 

Broomstick ! will you be rude to us too ? 

Brander. 

But hold ! or blows shall rain. 

Altmayer. 

(Draws a stopper from the table ; jire flies out against 
him.) 

I am on fire ! I am on fire ! 

Siebel. 

Sorcery ! thrust home ! the knave is fair game. 
(They draw their knives, and attach Mephistopheles.) 
Mephistopheles ( with solemn gestures.) 
False form and word, 
Change sense and place, 
Be here, be there ! 
( They stand amazed, and gaze on each other.) 



( 95 ) 

Altmayer. 
Where am I ? What a beautiful country ! 
Frosch. 

Vineyards ! Can I believe my eyes ? 

Siebel. 
And grapes close at hand ! 

Brander. 

Here, under these green leaves, see, what a stem ! 
See, what a bunch ! 

( He seizes Siebel by the nose. The others do the same 
one with the other, and brandish their knives.) 
Mephistopheles ( as before.) 
Error, loose the bandage from their eyes ! And do 
ye remember the devil's mode of jesting ! 

( He disappears with Faust. The fellows start bach 
from one another.) 

Siebel. 

What's the matter ? 

Altmayer. 

How ? 

Frosch. 

Was that your nose ? 

Brander to Siebel. 
And I have your's in my hand ! 

Altmayer. 

It was a shock which thrilled through every limb ! 
Give me a chair, I am sinking. 



( 96 ) < 
Frosch. 

No, do but tell me : what has happened ? 

SlEBEL. 

Where is the fellow ? If I meet with him, it shall 
be as much as his life is worth. 

Altmayer. 

I saw him with my own eyes riding out of the cellar 
door upon a cask. My feet feel as heavy as lead. 

(Turning towards the table.) 
My ! I wonder whether the wine is flowing still ? 
Siebel. 

It was all a cheat, a lie, and a make-believe. 
Frosch. 

Yet it seemed to me as if I was drinking wine. 

Brander. 
But how was it with the grapes ? 

Altmayer. 

Let any one tell me after that, that one is not to be- 
lieve in miracles ! 



( 97 ) 



WITCHES' KITCHEN. 

A large cauldron is hanging over the Jire on a low 
hearth. Different figures are seen in the fumes which 
rise from it. A Female Monkey is sitting by the 
cauldron and skimming it, and taking care that it does 
not run over. The Male Monkey is seated near, with 
the young ones, and warming himself The walls and 
ceiling are hung with the rarest articles of Witch furni- 
ture. 

Faust. 

I loath this mad concern of witchcraft. Do you 
promise me that I shall recover in this chaos of 
insanity? Do I need an old hag's advice? And will 
this mess of cookery really take thirty years from my 
body ? Woe is me, if you know of nothing better ! 
Hope is already gone. Has nature and has a noble 
spirit discovered no sort of balsam ? 

Mephistopheles. 

My friend, now again you speak wisely ! There is 
one natural mode of renewing youth. But it is in 
another book, and is a strange chapter. 

Faust. 

Let me know it. 

H 



( 98 ) 

Mephistopheles. 
Well ! to have a mean without money, physician, or 
sorcery: betake thyself straightway to the field, begin 
to hack and dig, confine thyself and thy sense within a 
narrow circle ; support thyself on simple food ; live 
with beasts as a beast, and think it no robbery to ma- 
nure the land you crop. That is the best way, believe 
me, to keep a man young to eighty. 

Faust. 

I am not used to it. I cannot bring myself to take 
the spade in hand. The confined life does not suit me 
at all. 

Mephistopheles. 
Then you must have recourse to the witch after all. 
Faust. 

But why the old woman in particular ? Cannot you 
brew the drink yourself? 

Mephistopheles. 

That were a pretty pastime ! I could build a thou- 
sand bridges in the time. Not art and science only, 
but patience is required for the job. A quiet spirit is 
busy for years ; time only makes this fine liquor strong. 
And the ingredients are exceedingly rare. The devil, 
it is true, has taught it her, but the devil cannot make 
it. (Perceiving the Monkeys.) See what a pretty 
breed ! That is the lass— that the lad. (To the Mon- 
keys.) — It seems your mistress is not at home? 



( 99 ) 

The Monkeys. 
At the feast, 
Out of the house, 

Out and away by the chimney-stone! 
Mephistopheles. 
How long does she usually rake? 

The Monkeys. 
Whilst we are warming our paws. 

Mephistopheles ( to Faust.J 
What think you of the pretty creatures ? 

Faust. 

The most disgusting I ever saw. 

Mephistopheles. 
Nay, a discourse like the present, is precisely what I 
am fondest of engaging in. 

(To the Monkeys. J 
Tell me, accursed whelps, what are ye stirring up 
with the porridge? 

Monkeys. 
We are cooking coarse beggars' broth. 

Mephistopheles. 
You will have plenty of customers. 

The He Monkey. 
( Approaches and fawns on Mephistopheles.^ 
Oh, quick throw the dice, 
And make me rich — 



( ioo ) 

And let me win ! 

My fate is a sorry one, 

And had I money 

I should not want for consideration. 
Mephistopheles. 
How happy the monkey would think himself, if he 
could only put into the lottery. 

( The Young Monyeys have, in the mean time, 
been playing with a large globe, and roll it 
forwards.) 

The He Monkey. 
That is the world ; 
It rises and falls, 
And rolls unceasingly. 
It rings like glass : 
How soon breaks that ? 
It is hollow within; 
It glitters much here, 
And still more here — 
I am alive ! 
My dear son, 
Keep thee aloof ; 
Thou must die ! 
It is of clay, 
This makes potshards. 

Mephistopheles. 
What is the sieve for ? 



( ioi ) 

The He Monkey takes it down, 
Wert thou a thief, I should know thee at once. 
(He runs to the female and makes her look through.) 
Look through the sieve! 
Dost thou recognize the thief? 
And darest not name him ? 
Mephistopheles, approaching the fire. 
And this pot ? 

The Monkeys. 
The half-witted sot ! 
He knows not the pot ! 
Fie knows not the kettle ! 
Mephistopheles. 

Uncivil brute ! 

The He Monkey. 
Take the brush here, and sit down on the settle. 

(He makes Mephistopheles sit down.) 
Faust. 

( Who all this time has been standing before a looking- 
glass, now approaching and now standing off from it.) 
What do I see ? What a heavenly image shows 
itself in this magic mirror ! O Love ! lend me the 
swiftest of thy wings, and bear me to her region ! Ah ! 
when I stir from this spot, when I venture to go 
near, I can only see her as in a mist. The loveliest 
image of a woman ! Is it possible — is woman so lovely ? 
Must I see in these recumbent limbs the innermost 



( 102 ) 

essence of all Heavens? Is there any thing like it 
upon earth ? 

Mephistopheles. 
When a God first works hard for six days, and him- 
self says bravo at the end, it is but natural that some- 
thing clever should come of it. For this time look 
your fill. I know where to find out such a love for 
you, and happy he whose fortune it is to bear her 
home as a bridegroom. 

(Faust continues looking into the mirror. Mephis- 
topheles, stretching himself on the settle and play- 
ing with the brush, continues speaking. J 
Here I sit, like the king upon his throne ; here is my 
sceptre — I only want the crown. 

The Monkeys, 
( rvho have hitherto been playing all sorts of strange 
antics, bring Mephistopheles a crown, with loud 
acclamations.) 

Oh, be so good as to glue the crown with sweat and 
blood ! 

( They handle the crown awkwardly, and break it into 
two pieces, with which they jump about. 
Now it is done. 
We speak and see ; 
We hear and rhyme — 
Faust, before the mirror. 
Woe is me ! I am becoming almost mad ! 



( 103 ) 

Mephistopheles. 
My own head begins to totter now. 

The Monkeys. 
— And if we are lucky, — 
And if things fit, 
Then there are thoughts. 
Faust, as before. 
My heart is beginning to burn. Do but let us be- 
gone immediately. 

Mephistopheees, in the same position. 
Well, no one can deny, at any rate, that they are 
sincere poets. 

( The cauldron, which the She Monkey has neglected, 
begins to boil over ; a great flame arises, and streams 
up the chimney. The Witch comes shooting down 
through the flame with horrible cries.) 
The Witch. 
Ough, ough, ough, ough ! 
Damned beast! Accursed sow! 
Neglecting the cauldron, scorching your dame — 
Cursed beast ! 

( Espying Faust and Mephistopheles.) 
What now ? 
Who are ye ? 
What would ye here 1 
Who hath come slinking in? 
The red plague of fire 
Into your bones ! 



( 104 ) 

( She dips the skimming ladle into the cauldron, and 
sprinkles flames at Faust, Mephistopheles, and 
the Monkeys. The Monkeys wimper.) 
Mephistopheles. 
( Who inverts the brush which he holds in his hand, and 
strikes amongst the glasses and pots.) 
To pieces! 
To pieces ! 

There lies the porridge ! 

There lies the glass! 
It is only carrying on the jest — beating time, thou 
carrion, to thy melody. 

(As the Witch steps back in rage and amazement.) 
Dost thou recognize me, thou atomy, thou scarecrow? 
Dost thou recognize thy lord and master? What is 
there to hinder me from striking in good earnest, from 
dashing thee and thy monkey- spirits to pieces ? Hast 
thou no more any respect for the red doublet ? Can'st 
thou not distinguish the cock's feather? Have I con- 
cealed this face? Must I then name myself? 

The Witch. 

O master, pardon this rough reception. But I see 
no cloven foot. Where then are your two ravens? 
Mephistopheles. 

This once, the apology may serve. For, to be sure, 
it is long since last we met. The march of intellect 
too, which licks all the world into shape, has even 
reached the devil. The northern phantom is no more 



( 105 ) 

to be seen. Where do you now see horns, tail, and 
claws ? And as for the foot, which I cannot do without, 
it would prejudice me in society; therefore, like many 
a gallant, I have worn false calves these many years. 
The Witch, dancing. 
I am almost beside myself, to see the gallant Satan 
here again. 

Mephistopheles. 
The name, woman, I beg to be spared. 

The Witch. 
Wherefore ? What has it done to you ? 

Mephistopheles. 
It has been long written in story books; but men are 
not the better for that ; they are rid of the wicked one, 
the wicked have remained. You may call me Baron, 
that will do very well. I am a cavalier, like other 
cavaliers. You doubt not of my gentle blood ; see 
here, these are the arms I bear! 

( He makes an unseemly gesture.) 
The Witch laughs immoderately. 
Ha, ha! That is in your way. You are the same 
mad wag as ever. 

Mephistopheles (to Faust.) 
My friend, attend to this. This is the way to deal 
with witches. 

The Witch. 
Now, Sirs, say what you are for. 



( 106 ) 

Mephistopheles. 
A good glass of the juice you wot of. I must beg 
you to let it be of the oldest. Years double its power. 
The Witch. 

Most willingly. Here is a bottle out of which I 
sometimes sip a little myself ; which, besides, no longer 
stinks in the least. I will give you a glass with plea- 
sure. ( Aside.) But if this man drinks it unprepared, 
you well know he cannot live an hour. 

Mephistopheles. 
He is a worthy friend of mine, on whom it will have 
a good effect. I grudge him not the best of thy kitchen. 
Draw thy circle, spell thy spells, and give him a cup full. 
( The Witch, with strange gestures, draws a circle and 
places rare things in it; in the mean time, the 
glasses begin to ring, and the cauldron to sound and 
make music. Lastly, she brings a great book, and 
places the Monkeys in the circle, who are made to 
serve her for a reading desk and hold the torches. 
She signs to Faust to approach.) 

Faust {to Mephistopheles.) 
But tell me what is to come of all this ? The absurd 
stuff, the frantic gestures, this most disgusting jug- 
glery — I know them of old and abominate them. 
Mephistopheles. 
Pooh ! that is only fit to laugh at. Don't be so 
fastidious. In her capacity of mediciner she is obliged 



( 107 ) 

to play off some hocus-pocus, that the dose may ope- 
rate well on you. ( He makes Faust enter the circle.) 
The Witch, with a strong emphasis, begins to declaim 
from the book. 

You must understand, 

Of one make ten, 

And let two go, 

And three make even ; 

Then art thou rich. 

Lose the four. 

Out of five and six, 

So says the Witch, 

Make seven and eight, 

Then it is done, 

And nine is one, 

And ten is none. 

That is the witches one-time's-one. 
Faust. 

It seems to me that the hag is raving. 

Mephistopheles. 

There is a good deal more of it yet — I know it well ; 
the whole book is to the same tune. I have wasted 
many an hour upon it, for a downright contradiction 
remains equally mysterious to wise folks and fools. 
My friend, the art is old and new. It has ever been 
the fashion to spread error instead of truth by three 
and one, and one and three. It is taught and prattled 



( 108 ) 

uninterruptedly. Who will concern themselves about 
dolts ? Men are wont to believe, when they hear only 
words, that there must be something in it. 

The Witch continues. 

The high power 

Of knowledge, 

Hidden from the whole world ! 
And he who thinks not, 
On him is it bestowed ; 
He has it without trouble. 
Faust. 

What sort of nonsense is she reciting to us? My 

head is splitting ! I seem to hear a hundred idiots 

rK^/uT> ... A 

declaiming in full chorus. 

Mephistopheles. 

Enough, enough, incomparable Sybil! Hand us thy 

drink, and fill the cup to the brim without more ado ; 

for this draught will do my friend no harm. He is a 

man of many grades, who has taken many a good gulp 

already. 

( The Witch with many ceremonies pours the liquor 
into a cup : as Faust lifts it to his mouth, a light 
flame arises.) 

Mephistopheles. 
Down with it at once. Do not stand hesitating. It 
will soon warm your heart. Are you hail-fellow well- 
met with the devil, and afraid of fire 1 



( 109 ) 

(The Witch dissolves the circle — Faust steps out.) 

Mephistopheles. 
Now forth at once ! You must not rest. 

The Witch. 
Much good may the draught do you. 

Mephistopheles (to the Witch.) 
And if I can do any thing to pleasure you, you need 
only mention it to me on Walpurgis' night. 

The Witch. 

Here is a song! if you sing it occasionally, it will 
have a particular effect on you. 

Mephistopheles (to Faust.) 

Come, quick, and be guided by me ; you must abso- 
lutely perspire to make the spirit work through blood 
and bone. I will afterwards teach you to enjoy the 
nobility of idleness, and you will feel ere long, with 
heartfelt delight, how Cupid bestirs himself and bounds 
hither and thither. 

Faust. 

Let me only look another moment in the glass. That 
female form was too, too lovely. 

Mephistopheles. 
Nay, nay ; you shall soon see the model of all 
womankind in flesh and blood. 

( aside.) 

With this draught in your body, you will soon see a 
Helen in every woman you meet. 



( no ) 



THE STREET. 

Faust. (Margaret passing by. J 
My pretty lady, may I take the liberty of offering 
you my arm and escort ? 

Margaret. 

I am neither lady, nor pretty, and can go home 
without an escort. ( She disengages herself and exit.) 
Faust. 

By heaven, this girl is lovely! I have never seen 
the like of her. She is so well-behaved and virtuous, 
and something snappish withal. The redness of her 
lip, the light of her cheek — I shall never forget them 
all the days of my life. The manner in which she cast 
down her eyes is deeply stamped upon my heart ; and 
how tart she was — it was absolutely ravishing! 

Mephistopheles enters. 
Faust. 

Hark, you must get me the girl. 

Mephistopheles. 

Which? 

Faust. 

She passed but now. 



( 111 ) 

Mephistopheles. 
What she ? She came from her confessor, who ab- 
solved her from all her sins. I stole up close to the 
chair. It is an innocent little thing, that went for next 
to nothing to the confessional. Over her I have no 
power. 

Faust. 
Yet she is past fourteen ! 

Mephistopheles. 
You positively speak like Jack Rake, who covets 
every sweet flower for himself, and fancies that there 
is neither honour nor favour which is not to be had for 
the plucking. But this will not always do. 

Faust. 

My good Mr. Sermoniser, don't plague me with 
your morality. And, in a word, I tell you this : if the 
sweet young creature does not lie this very night in my 
arms, at midnight our league is at an end. 

Mephistopheles. 
Consider what is possible. I need a fortnight, at 
least, only to find an opportunity. 

Faust. 

Had I but seven hours clear, I should not want the 
devil's assistance to seduce such a child. 

Mephistopheles. 

You talk now almost like a Frenchman ; but don't 
fret about it, I beg. What boots it to go straight to 



( H2 ) 

enjoyment ? The delight is not so great by far as when 
you have kneaded and moulded the doll on all sides 
with all sorts of nonsense, as many a French story 
teaches. 

Faust. 

But I have appetite without all that. 

Mephistopheles. 
Now, seriously and without offence, I tell you once 
for all, that the lovely girl is not to be had in such a 
hurry ; nothing here is to be taken by storm ; we must 
have recourse to stratagem. 

Faust. 

Get me something belonging to the angel. Carry 
me to her place of repose ; get me a kerchief from her 
bosom, a garter of my love. 

Mephistopheles. 
That you may see my anxiety to minister to your 
passion, — we will not lose a moment; this very day I 
will conduct you to her chamber. 

Faust. 

And shall I see her? have her? — 
Mephistopheles. 
No. She will be at a neighbour's. In the mean 
time, you, all alone, and in her atmosphere, may feast 
to satiety on anticipated joy. 

Faust. 

Can we go now? 



( US ) 
Mephistopheles. 

It is too early. 

Faust. 

Get me a present for her. [Exit, 

Mephistopheles. 
Presents directly ! Now that's capital ! That is the 
way to succeed ! I know many a fine place and many 
a long-buried treasure. I must look them over a bit. 

[Exit. 



i 



( 114 ) 



EVENING. 

A neat little Room. 

Margaret, braiding and binding up her hair. 
I would give something to know who that gentleman 
was to-day ! He had a gallant bearing, and is of a 
noble family I am sure. 1 could read that on his brow ; 
besides, he would not else have been so impudent. 

[Exit. 

Mephistopheles — Faust. 
Mephistopheles. 
Come in — as softly as possible — only come in ! 

Faust, after a pause. 
Leave me alone, I beg of you. 

Mephistopheles, looking round. 
It is not every maiden that is so neat. [Exit. 

Faust, looking round. 
Welcome, sweet twilight, that pervades this sanc- 
tuary ! Possess my heart, delicious pangs of love, you 
who live languishing on the dew of hope ! What a 
feeling of peace, order and contentment breathes round ! 
What abundance in this poverty ! What bliss in this 
cell! 

( He throws himself upon the leathern easy chair by the 
side of the bed.) 



( 115 ) 

Oh ! receive me, thou, who hast welcomed, with open 
arms, in joy and sorrow, the generations that are past. 
Ah, how often has a swarm of children clustered about 
this patriarchal throne. Here, perhaps, in gratitude 
for her Christmas-box, with the warm round cheek of 
childhood — has my beloved piously kissed the withered 
hand of her grandsire. Maiden, I feel thy spirit of 
abundance and order rustle round me — that spirit 
which daily instructs thee like a mother — which bids 
thee spread the neat cloth upon the table and strew 
the sand upon the floor. Dear maid ! so godlike ! you 
make the hut a heaven ; and here — 

( He lifts up a bed-curtain.) 
what blissful tremor seizes me ! Here could I linger 
for hours ! Nature ! here, in light dreams, you ma- 
tured the born angel. Here lay the child ! its gentle 
bosom filled with warm life ; and here, with weavings 
of hallowed purity, the divine image developed itself. 

And thou, what hast brought thee hither ? How 
deeply moved I feel ! What would'st thou here ? Why 
grows thy heart so heavy ? Poor Faust, I no longer 
know thee. 

Am I breathing an enchanted atmosphere ? I panted 
so for instant enjoyment, and I feel myself dissolving 
into a dream of love. Are we the sport of every pres- 
sure of the air ? 

i 2 



( 116 ) 

And if she entered this very moment, how would'st 
thou atone for thy guilt ! The big boaster, alas, how 
shrunk ! would lie, dissolved away, at her feet. 
Mephistopheles. 
Quick ! I see her coming below. 

Faust. 

Away, away ! I return no more. 

Mephistopheles. 
Here is a casket tolerably heavy. I took it from 
somewhere else. Place it, without hesitation, in the 
press. I promise you she will be beside herself. I 
put the baubles in it to gain another ; but children are 
children, and play is play, all the world over. 

Faust. 

I know not — shall I ? 

Mephistopheles. 

Is that a thing to ask about? Perchance you mean 
to keep the treasure for yourself? In that case I ad- 
vise you to spare the precious hours for your lusts, and 
further trouble to me. I hope you are not avaricious. 
I scratch my head, rub my hands — • 

( He places the casket in the press and closes the lock.) 

But quick, away ! — to bend the sweet young creature 
to your heart's desire ; and now you look as if you 
were going to the lecture-room — as if Physic and Meta- 
physic were standing bodily before you there. But 
away ! [Exeunt. 



( "7 ) 

Margaret, with a lamip. 
It feels so close, so sultry here. (She opens the win- 
dow.) And yet it is not so very warm without. I 
begin to feel I know not how. I wish my mother would 
come home. I tremble all over ; but I am a silly, timid 
woman. ( She begins to sing as she undresses herself.) 
Song. 

There was a king in Thule, faithful even to the 
grave, to whom his dying mistress gave a golden goblet. 

He prized nothing above it ; he emptied it at every 
feast ; his eyes overflowed as often as he drank out 
of it. 

And when he came to die, he reckoned up the cities 
in his kingdom ; he grudged none of them to his heir, 
but not so with the goblet. 

He sat at the royal banquet, with his knights around 
him, in his proud ancestral hall, there in his castle on 
the sea. 

There stood the old toper, took a parting draft of 
life's glow, and threw the hallowed goblet down into 
the waves. 

He saw it splash, fill, and sink deep into the sea ; 
his eyes fell, he never drank a drop more. 

(She opens the press to put away her clothes, and 
perceives the casket.) 

How came this beautiful casket here? I am sure I 
locked the press. It is very strange ! What is in it, 



( 118 ) 

I wonder ? Perhaps some one brought it as a pledge, 
and my mother lent money upon it. A little key hangs 
by the ribbon ; I have a good mind to open it. What 
is here ? Good heavens ! look ! I have never seen any 
thing like it in all my born days ! A set of trinkets, 
a countess might wear on the highest festival. How 
would the chain become me ? To whom can such 
finery belong ? ( She puts them on, and walks before the 
looking-glass. J If the earrings were but mine ! one 
cuts quite a different figure in them. What avails 
your beauty, poor maiden? That may be all very 
pretty and good, but they let it all be. You are 
praised, half in pity ; but after gold presses — on gold 
hangs — everything. — Alas, for us poor ones ! 



( 119 ) 



PROMENADE. 

Faust walking up and down thoughtfully. To him 
Mephistopheles. 
By all despised love ! By the elements of hell ! 
Would that I knew something worse to curse by ! 
Faust. 

What is the matter ? What is it that pinches you 
so sharply ? I never saw such a face in my life ! 
Mephistopheles. 

I could give myself to the devil directly, were I not 
the devil myself. 

Faust. 

Is your brain disordered ? It becomes you truly to 
rave like a madman. 

Mephistopheles. 

Only think ! A priest has carried off the jewels 
provided for Magaret. The mother gets sight of the 
thing, and begins at once to have a secret horror of it. 
Truly the woman hath a fine nose, is ever snuffling in 
her prayer-book, and smells at every piece of furniture 
to try whether the thing be holy or profane ; and she 
plainly smells out in the jewels, that there was not much 
blessing connected with them. " My child," said she, 
" ill-gotten wealth ensnares the soul, consumes the 



( 120 ) 

blood. We will consecrate it to the Mother of God ; she 
will gladden us with heavenly manna." Margaret made 
a wry face ; it is after all, thought she, a gift horse ; and 
truly, he cannot be godless, who brought it here so 
handsomely. The mother sent for a priest. Scarcely 
had he heard the jest, but he seemed well pleased with 
the sight. He spoke: " this shows a good disposition; 
who conquers himself, — he is the gainer. The church 
has a good stomach ; she has eaten up whole countries, 
and has never yet over-eaten herself. The church 
alone, my good women, can digest ill-gotten wealth." 
Faust. 

That is a general custom ; a Jew and a King can do 
it too. 

Mephistopheles. 
So saying he swept off clasp, chain and ring, as if 
they were so many mushrooms ; thanked them neither 
more nor less than if it had been a basket of nuts ; 
promised them all heavenly reward, and very much 
edified they were. 

Faust. 

And Margaret — 

Mephistopheles. 

Is now sitting full of restlessness ; wishing she knows 
not what ; thinks day and night on the trinkets, and 
still more on him who brought them. 



( 121 ) 

Faust. 

My love's grief distresses me. Get her another set 
immediately. The first were no great things. 

Mephistopheles. 
Oh ! to be sure, all is child's play to the gentleman ! 
Faust. 

Do it, and order it as I wish. Stick close to her 
neighbour. Don't be a milk-and-water devil ; and 
fetch a fresh set of jewels. 

Mephistopheles. 

With all my heart, honoured Sir. 

[Faust exit, 

A love-sick fool like this puffs away sun and moon 
and stars indifferently, by way of pastime for his 
mistress. 



( 122 ) 



THE NEIGHBOUR'S HOUSE. 

Martha alone. 
God forgive my dear husband ; he has not acted well 
towards me. He goes straight away into the world, 
and leaves me widowed and lonely. Yet truly I never 
did anything to vex him ; God knows I loved him to 
my heart. ( She weeps.) Perhaps he is actually 
dead. Oh, torture ! Had I but a certificate of his 
death ! 

Margaret enters. 
Margaret. 

Martha! 

Martha. 

What is the matter, Margaret? 

Margaret. 

My knees almost sink under me ! I have found just 
such another ebony casket in my press — and things 
absolutely magnificent, far costlier than the first was. 
Martha. 

You must say nothing about it to your mother* She 
would carry it to the confessional again. 

Margaret. 
Now, only see ! only look at them ! 



( 123 ) 

Martha dresses her up in them. 
Oh! you happy creature. 

Margaret. 

Unfortunately, I must not be seen in them in the 
street, nor in the church. 

Martha. 

Do but come over frequently to me, and put on the 
trinkets here in private. Walk a little hour up and 
down before the looking-glass ; we shall have our en- 
joyment in that. And then an occasion offers — a festival 
occurs, where, little by little, one lets folks see them ; — 
first a chain, then the pearl ear-rings. Your mother, 
perhaps, will not observe it, or one may make some 
pretence to her. 

Margaret. 

But who could have brought the two caskets? 
There is something not right about it. 

( Some one knocks.) 

Margaret. 
Good God ! can that be my mother ? 

Martha, looking through the blinds. 
It is a stranger — come in! 

Mephistopheles enters. 
I have made free to come in at once ; I have to beg 
pardon of the ladies. 

( He steps back respectfully before Margaret.) 
I came to inquire after Mrs. Martha Schwerdtlein. 



( 124 ) 
Martha. 

I am she; what is your pleasure, Sir? 

Mephistopheles (aside to her.) 
I know you now — that is enough. You have a visitor 
of distinction there. Excuse the liberty I have taken. 
I will call again in the afternoon. 

Martha ( aloud.) 
Only think, child — of all things in the world! this 
gentleman takes you for a lady. 

Margaret. 

I am a poor young creature. Oh! Heavens, the 
gentleman is too obliging. The jewels and ornaments 
are none of mine. 

Mephistopheles. 
Ah! it is not the jewels alone. She has a mien, a 
look, so striking. How glad I am that I may stay. 
Martha. 

What do you bring then ? I am very curious — 
Mephistopheles. 

I wish I had better news. I hope you will not make 
me suffer for it. Your husband is dead, and sends you 
his compliments. 

Martha. 

Is dead ! the good soul ! Oh, woe is me ! My 
husband is dead ! Ah, I shall die ! 

Margaret. 
Dear, good Martha, don't despair. 



( \25 ) 

Mephistopheles. 
Listen to the melancholy tale. 

Margaret. 

For this reason I should wish never to be in love for 
all the days of my life. The loss would grieve me to 
death. 

Mephistopheles. 
Joy must have sorrow — sorrow, joy. 

Martha. 
Relate to me the close of his life. 

Mephistopheles. 
He lies buried in Padua at St. Antony's, in a spot 
well consecrated for a bed of rest, — eternally cool. 
Martha. 
Have you nothing else for me ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Yes, a request, big and heavy ! be sure to have 
three hundred masses sung for him. For the rest, my 
pockets are empty. 

Martha. 

What! not a coin by way of token? Not a trinket? 
what every journeyman mechanic husbands at the bot- 
tom of his pouch, saved as a keepsake, and rather 
starves, rather begs — 

Mephistopheles. 

Madam, I am very sorry. But he really has not 
squandered away his money. He, too, bitterly re- 



( 126 ) 

pented of his sins ; aye, and bewailed his ill-luck still 
more. 

Margaret. 

Ah ! that mortals should be so unlucky. Assuredly 
I will sing many a requiem for him. 

Mephistopheles. 

You deserve to be married directly. You are an 
amiable girl. 

Margaret. 
Oh, no, there is time enough for that. 

Mephistopheles. 
If not a husband, then a gallant in the meantime. It 
were one of the best gifts of heaven to have so sweet a 
thing in one's arms. 

Margaret. 
That is not the custom in this country. 

Mephistopheles. 
Custom or not, such things do happen though. 
Martha. 

But relate to me — 

Mephistopheles. 

I stood by his death-bed. It was somewhat better 
than dung, — of half-rotten straw; but he died like a 
Christian, and found that he had still much more upon 
his score. " How thoroughly," he cried, " must I 
detest myself — to run away from my business and my 



( 127 ) 

wife in such a manner. Oh ! the recollection is death 
to me. If she could but forgive me in this life !" — 
Martha (weeping.) 
The good man ! I have long since forgiven him. 

Mephistopheles. 
" But, God knows, she was more in fault than I." 
Martha. 

He lied then ! What, tell lies on the brink of the 

grave ! 

Mephistopheles. 
He certainly fabled with his last breath, if I am but 
half a connoisseur. " I," said he, " had no occasion to 
gape for pastime — first to get children, and then bread 
for them — and bread in the widest sense, — and could 
not even eat my share in peace." 

Martha. 

Did he thus forget all my faith, all my love — my 
drudgery by day and night ? 

Mephistopheles. 

Not so ; he affectionately reflected on it. He said : 
" When I left Malta, I prayed fervently for my wife 
and children ; and heaven was so far favourable, that 
our ship took a Turkish vessel, which carried a treasure 
of the great sultan. Bravery had its reward, and, as 
was no more than right, I got my fair share of it." 
Martha. 

How ! Where ! Can he have buried it ? 



( 128 ) 

Mephistopheles. 
Who knows where it is now scattered to the four 
winds of heaven ? A fair damsel took an interest in 
him as he was strolling about, a stranger, in Naples. 
She manifested great fondness and fidelity towards 
him ; so much so, that he felt it even unto his blessed 
end. 

Martha. 

The villain ! the robber of his children ! And all 
the wretchedness, all the poverty, could not check his 
scandalous life. 

Mephistopheles. 
But consider, he has paid for it with his life. Now, 
were I in your place, I would mourn him for one chaste 
year, and have an eye towards a new sweetheart in the 
meantime. 

Martha. 

Oh God ! but I shall not easily in this world find 
another like my first. There could hardly be a kinder- 
hearted fool : he only loved being away from home too 
much, and stranger women, and stranger wine, and the 
cursed dicing. 

Mephistopheles. 
Well, well, things might have gone on very well, if 
he, on his part, only winked at an equal number of 
peccadillos in you. I protest, upon this condition, I 
would change rings with you myself! 



( 129 ) 

Martha. 
Oh, the gentleman is pleased to jest. 

Mephistopheles (aside.) 
Now it is full time to be off. I dare say she would 
take the devil himself at his word. 

(to Margaret. ) 
How feels your heart ? 

Margaret. 
What do you mean ? 

Mephistopheles ( aside.) 
Good, innocent child. 

( aloud.) 

Farewell, ladies ! 

Margaret. 

Farewell ! 

Martha. 

Oh, but tell me quickly! I should like to have a 
certificate where, how, and when my love died and was 
buried. I was always a friend to regularity, and should 
like to read his death in the weekly papers. 

Mephistopheles. 

Aye, my good Madam, the truth is manifested by 
the testimony of two witnesses all the world over ; 
and I have a gallant companion, whom I will bring 
before the judge for you. I will fetch him here. 
Martha. 

Oh, pray do! 

K 



( 130 ) 

Mephistopheles. 
And the young lady will be here too ? — a fine lad ! 
has travelled much, and shows all possible politeness 
to the ladies. 

Margaret. 

I should be covered with confusion in the presence 
of the gentleman. 

Mephistopheles. 
In the presence of no king on earth. 

Martha. 

Behind the house there, in my garden, we shall 
expect you both this evening. 



( 131 ) 



THE STREET. 
Faust — Mephistopheles. 

Faust. 

How have you managed ? Is it in train ? Will it 
soon do ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Bravo ! Do I find you all on fire ? Margaret will 
very shortly be your's. This evening you will see her 
at her neighbour Martha's. That is a woman especially 
chosen, as it were, for the procuress and gipsey call- 
ing. 

Faust. 

So far so good. 

Mephistopheles. 
Something, however, is required of us. 

Faust. 

One good turn deserves another. 

Mephistopheles. 

We have only to make a formal deposition, that the 
extended limbs of her lord repose in holy ground in 
Padua. 

Faust. 

Wisely done ! We shall first be obliged to take the 
journey thither, I suppose. 

k 2 



( 132 ) 

Mephistopheles. 
Sancta simplicitas ! There is no necessity for that. 
Only bear witness without knowing much about the 
matter. 

Faust. 

If you have nothing better to propose, the scheme is 
at an end. 

Mephistopheles. 
Oh, holy man ! There's for you now ! Is it the first 
time in your life that you have borne false testimony ? 
Have you not confidently given definitions of God, of 
the world, and of whatever moves in it — of man, and 
of the workings of his head and heart — with una- 
bashed front, dauntless breast? And, looking fairly at 
the real nature of things, have you — you must confess 
you have not — have you known as much of these mat- 
ters as of Mr. Swerdtlein's death ? 

Faust. 

Thou art and ever wilt be a liar, a sophist. 

Mephistopheles. 
Aye, if one did not look a little deeper. To-morrow, 
too, will you not, in all honour, make a fool of poor 
Margaret, and swear to love her with all your soul ? 
Faust. 
And truly from my heart. 

Mephistopheles. 
Fine talking ! Then will you speak of eternal truth 



( 133 ) 

and love — of one exclusive, all-absorbing passion; — 
will that also come from the heart ? 

Faust. 

Peace — it will! — when I feel, and seek a name for 
the passion, the phrenzy, but find none ; then range 
with all my senses through the world, grasp at all the 
most sublime expressions, and call this flame, which is 
consuming me, endless, eternal, eternal! — is that a de- 
vilish play of lies ? 

Mephistopheles. 
I am right for all that. 

Faust. 

Hear ! mark this, I beg of you, and spare my lungs. 
He who is determined to be right and has but a tongue, 
will be right undoubtedly. But come, I am tired of 
gossiping. For you are right, particularly because I 
cannot help myself. 



( 134 ) 



GARDEN. 

Margaret on Faust's arm, Martha with Mephisto- 
pheles, walking up and down. 

Margaret. 

I am sure that you are only trifling with me — letting 
yourself down to shame me. Travellers are wont to 
put up with things out of complacency. I know too 
well that my poor prattle cannot entertain a man of 
your experience. 

Faust. 

A glance, a word from thee, gives greater pleasure 
than all the wisdom of this world. {He kisses her hand.) 
Margaret. 

Don't inconvenience yourself! How can you kiss 
it ? It is so coarse, so hard. I have been obliged to 
do — heaven knows what not ; my mother is indeed too 
exact. ( They pass on.) 

Martha. 

And you, Sir, are always travelling in this manner ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Alas, that business and duty should force us to it ! 



( 135 ) 

How many a place one quits with regret, and yet may 
not tarry in it ! 

Martha. 

It does very well in the wild years of youth, to rove 
about freely through the world. But the evil day 
comes at last, and to sneak a solitary old bachelor to 
the grave — that was never well for any one yet. 
Mephistopheles. 
I shudder at the distant view of it. 

Martha. 

Then, worthy Sir, think better of it in time. 

( They pass on.) 

Margaret. 

Aye ! out of sight out of mind! Politeness sits easily 
on you. But you have friends in abundance : they are 
more sensible than I am. 

Faust. 

O, thou excellent creature ! believe me, what is called 
sensible, often better deserves the name of vanity and 
narrow-mindedness. 

Margaret. 

How ? 

Faust. 

Alas, that simplicity, that innocence, never appreci- 
ates itself and its own hallowed worth ! That humility, 
lowliness — the highest gifts of love-fraught, bounteous 
nature — 



( 136 ) 
Margaret. 

Only think of me one little minute ; I shall have 
time enough to think of you. 

Faust. 

You are much alone, 1 dare say ? 

Margaret. 

Yes, our household is but small, and yet it must be 
looked after. We keep no maid ; I am obliged to cook, 
sweep, knit and sew, and run early and late. And my 
mother is so precise in every thing ! Not that she has 
such pressing occasion to restrict herself. We might 
do more than many others. My father left a nice little 
property — a small house and garden near the town. 
However, my days at present are tolerably quiet. My 
brother is a soldier ; my little sister is dead. I had my 
full share of trouble with her, but I would gladly take 
all the anxiety upon myself again, so dear was the child 
to me. 

Faust. 

An angel, if it resembled thee ! 

Margaret. 

I brought it up, and it loved me dearly. It was 
born after my father's death. We gave up my mother 
for lost, so sad was the condition she then lay in ; and 
she recovered very slowly, by degrees. Thus she 
could not think of suckling the poor little worm, and so 
I brought it up, all by myself, with milk and water. It 



( 137 ) 

thus became my own. On my arm, in my bosom, it 
smiled, and sprawled, and grew. 

Faust. 

You have felt, no doubt, the purest joy. 

Margaret. 

And many anxious hours, too. The little one's 
cradle stood at night by my bed-side : it could scarcely 
move but I was awake ; now obliged to give it drink ; 
now to take it to bed to me ; now, when it would not 
be quiet, to rise from bed, and walk up and down 
in the room dandling it; and early in the morning, 
stand already at the wash-tub : then go to market and 
see to the house ; and so on, day after day. Under 
such circumstances, Sir, the spirits are not uniformly 
good ; but food and rest relish the better for it. 

( They pass on. J 

Martha. 

The poor women have the worst of it. An old 
bachelor is hard to convert. 

Mephistopheles. 
It only depends on one like you to teach me better. 
Martha. 

Tell me plainly, Sir, have you never met with any 
one ? Has your heart never attached itself any where ? 
Mephistopheles. 

The proverb says — a hearth of one's own, and a 
good wife, are as good as pearls and gold. 



( 138 ) 
Martha. 

I mean, have you never had an inclination ? 

Mephistopheles. 
I have been in general very politely received. 
Martha. 

I wished to say— was your heart never seriously 
affecTed ? 

Mephistopheles. 
One should never venture to joke with women. 

Martha. 
Ah, you do not understand me. 

Mephistopheles. 
I am heartily sorry for it. But I understand — that 
you are very kind. ( They pass on.) 

Faust. 

You knew me again, you little angel, the moment I 
entered the garden. . 

Margaret. 
Did you not see it ? I cast down my eyes. 
Faust. 

And you forgive the liberty I took — my impudence 
as you were leaving the cathedral. 

Margaret. 

I was quite abashed. Such a thing had never hap- 
pened to me before ; no one could say any thing bad 
of me. Alas, thought I, has he seen any thing bold, 



( 139 ) 

unmaidenly, in my behaviour? It seemed as if the 
thought suddenly struck him, " I need stand on no 
ceremony with this girl." I must own I knew not 
what began to stir in your favour here ; but certainly I 
was right angry with myself for not being more angry 
with you. 

Faust. 

Sweet love ! 

Margaret. 

Wait a moment ! 

( She plucks a star-flower, and picks off the leaves 
one after the other.) 

Faust. 

What is that for — a nosegay ? 

Margaret. 
No, only for a game. 

Faust. 

How! 

Margaret. 
Go ! You will laugh at me. 

( She plucks off the leaves and murmurs to herself. J 
Faust. 
What are you murmuring ? 

Margaret, half aloud. 
He loves me — he loves me not ! 

Faust. 

Thou angelic being ! 



( 140 ) 

Margaret continues. 
Loves me — not — loves me — not — 

( Plucking off the last leaf with fond delight.) 
He loves me ! 

Faust. 

Yes, my child. Let this flower-prophecy be to thee 
as a judgment from heaven. He loves thee ! dost thou 
understand what that means ? He loves thee ! 

( He takes both her hands.) 
Margaret. 

I tremble all over ! 

Faust. 

Oh, tremble not. Let this look, let this pressure of 
the hand, say to thee what is unutterable : — to give 
ourselves up wholly, and feel a bliss which must be 
eternal! Eternal! — its end would be despair! No, 
no end ! no end ! 

(^Margaret presses his hands, extricates herself 
from his embrace, and runs away. He stands a 
moment in thought, and then follows her.) 
Martha, approaching. 
The night is coming on. 

Mephistopheles. 
Aye, and we will away. 

Martha. 

I would ask you to stay here longer, but it is a 



( 141 ) 

wicked place. One would suppose no one had any 
other object or occupation than to gape after their 
neighbour's incomings and outgoings. And one comes 
to be talked about, appear as one will. And our pair 
of lovers ? 

MePHISTOPHEEES. 

Have flown up the walk yonder. Wanton butter- 
flies ! 

Martha. 
He seems fond of her. 

Mephistopheles. 
And she of him. This is the way of the world. 



( 142 ) 



A SUMMER HOUSE. 

(Margaret runs in, gets behind the door, holds the 
tip of her finger to her lips, and peeps through the 
crevice.) 

Margaret. 

He comes ! 

Faust enters. 

Ah, rogue, is it thus you provoke me. I have 
caught you at last. ( He hisses her. ) 

Margaret, 
( embracing him and returning the kiss.) 
Dearest ! from my heart I love thee ! 

(Mephistopheles knocks.) 
Faust, stamping. 

Who is there? 

Mephistopheles. 

A friend. 

Faust. 

A brute. 

Mephistopheles. 
It is time to part, I believe. 

Martha comes up. 
Yes, it is late, Sir. 



( 143 ) 

Faust. 

May I not accompany you ? 

Margaret. 
My mother would — farewell ! 

Faust. 

Must I then go ? Farewell ! 

Martha. 

Adieu ! 

Margaret. 
Till our next speedy meeting ! 

[Faust and Mephistopheles exeunt.'] 
Margaret. 

Gracious God ! How many things such a man can 
think about ! How abashed I stand in his presence, 
and say yea to every thing! I am but a poor silly 
girl ; I cannot conceive what he sees in me. 



( 144 ) 



FOREST AND CAVERN. 
Faust, alone. 

Sublime spirit ! thou gavest me, gavest me every- 
thing I prayed for. Not in vain didst thou turn thy 
face in fire to me. Thou gavest me glorious nature 
for a kingdom, with power to feel and to enjoy her. 
It is not merely a cold wondering visit that thou per- 
mittest me; thou grudgest me not to look into her 
deep bosom, as into the bosom of a friend. Thou 
passest in review before me the whole series of animated 
things, and teachest me to know my brothers in the 
still wood, in the air and water. And when the storm 
roars and creaks in the forest, and the giant pine, pre- 
cipitating its neighbour-boughs and neighbour-stems, 
sweeps, crushing, down, — and the mountain thunders 
with a dead hollow muttering to the fall, — thou bearest 
me off to the sheltered cave ; then thou showest me to 
myself, and deep mysterious wonders of my own breast 
reveal themselves. And when the clear moon, with its 
soothing influences, goes up full in my view, — from 
the wall-like rocks, from the damp underwood, the 
silvery forms of past ages hover up to me, and soften 
the austere pleasure of contemplation. 

Oh, now I feel that nothing perfect falls to the lot of 



( 145 ) 

man ! With this beatitude, which brings me nearer and 
nearer to the gods, thou gavest me the companion, 
whom already I cannot do without ; although, cold and 
insolent, he degrades me in my own eyes, and turns 
thy gifts to nothing with a breath. He is ever kindling 
a wild-fire in my heart for that lovely image. Thus do 
I reel from desire to enjoyment, and in enjoyment lan- 
guish for desire. 

Mephistopheles enters. 
Have you not had enough of this kind of life ? How 
can you delight in it so long? It is all well enough to 
try once, but then on again to something new. 
Faust. 

I would you had something else to do than to plague 
me in my happier hour. 

Mephistopheles. 

Well, well ! I will let you alone if you wish. You 
need not say so in earnest. Truly, it is little to lose an 
ungracious, peevish, and crazy companion in you. The 
livelong day one has one's hands full. One cannot 
read in your worship's face what pleases you, and what 
to let alone. 

Faust. 

That is just the right tone! He would fain be 
thanked for wearying me to death. 

Mephistopheles. 
Poor son of earth ! what sort of life would you have 

L 



( 146 ) 

led without me? I have cured you for sometime to 
come of the crotchets of imagination, and, but for me, 
you would already have taken your departure from 
this globe. Why mope in caverns and fissures of rocks, 
like an owl? Why sip in nourishment from sodden 
moss and dripping stone, like a toad? A fair, sweet 
pastime ! The doctor still sticks to you. 

Faust. 

Dost thou understand what new life-power this wan- 
dering in the desert procures for me? Aye, could'st 
thou have but a dim presentiment of it, thou would'st 
be devil enough to grudge me my enjoyment. 

Mephistopheles. 

A super-earthly pleasure ! To lie on the mountains 
in darkness and dew — clasp earth and heaven ecstati- 
cally — swell yourself up to a godhead — rake through 
the earth's marrow with your thronging presentiments 
— feel the whole six days' work in your bosom — in 
haughty might enjoy I know not what — now overflow, 
in love's raptures, into all, with your earthly nature 
cast aside — and then the lofty intuition ( with a gesture ) 
— I must not say how — to end ! 

Faust. 

Fye upon you ! 

Mephistopheles. 
That is not to your mind. You are entitled to cry 
fye, so morally! We must not name to chaste ears 



( 147 ) 

what chaste hearts cannot renounce. And, in a word, 
I do not grudge you the pleasure of giving yourself 
lying pretexts occasionally. But you will not keep it 
up long. You are already driven back into your old 
course, and, if this holds much longer, will be fretted 
into madness or torture and horror. Enough of this ! 
your little love sits yonder at home, and all to her is 
poor and melancholy. You are never absent from her 
thoughts. She loves you all-subduingly. At first, 
your passion came overflowing, like a snow-flushed 
rivulet ; you have poured it into her heart, and lo ! 
your rivulet is dry again. Methinks, instead of reign- 
ing in the woods, your worship would do well to reward 
the poor young monkey for her love. The time seems 
lamentably long to her ; she stands at the window and 
watches the clouds roll away over the old walls of the 
town. " Were I a bird !" so runs her song, during all 
the day and half the night. One while she is cheerful, 
mostly sad, — one while fairly outwept: — then, again, 
composed, to all appearance — and ever lovesick ! 
Faust. 

Serpent! serpent! 

Mephistopheles (aside.) 
Good ! if I can but catch you ! 

Faust. 

Reprobate ! take thyself away, and name not the 



( 148 ) 

lovely woman. Bring not the desire for her sweet body- 
before my half-distracted senses again ! 

Mephistopheles. 
What is to be done, then ? She thinks that you are 
off, and in some manner you are. 

Faust. 

I am near her, and were I ever so far off, I can never 
forget, never lose her. Nay, I already envy the very 
body of the Lord when her lips are touching it. 
Mephistopheles. 
Very well, my friend. I have often envied you the 
twin-pair, which feed among roses. 

Faust. 

Pander! begone. 

Mephistopheles. 

Good again ! You rail, and I cannot help laughing. 
The God who created lad and lass, well understood the 
noble calling of making opportunity too. But away, 
it is a mighty matter to be sad about ! You should 
betake yourself to your mistress's chamber — not, I 
think, to death. 

Faust. 

What are the joys of heaven in her arms? Let me 
kindle on her breast ! Do I not feel her wretchedness 
unceasingly? Am I not the outcast — the houseless 
one ? — the monster without aim or rest — who, like a 
cataract, dashed from rock to rock, in devouring fury 



( 149 ) 

towards the precipice ? And she, upon the side, with 
childlike simplicity, in her little cot upon the little 
mountain field, and all her homely cares embraced 
within that little world ! And I, the hated of God — it 
was not enough to grasp the rocks and smite them to 
shatters! Her, her peace, must I undermine! — Hell, 
thou could'st not rest without this sacrifice ! Devil, 
help me to shorten the pang ! Let what must be, be 
quickly ! Let her fate fall crushing upon me, and both 
of us perish together ! 

Mephistopheles. 
How it seethes and glows again ! Get in and com- 
fort her, you fool! — When such a noddle sees no out- 
let, it immediately represents to itself the end. Long 
live he who bears himself bravely ! And yet, on other 
occasions, you have a fair spice of the devil in you. I 
know nothing in the world more insipid than a devil 
that despairs. 



( 150 ) 



MARGARET'S ROOM. 

Margaret, alone, at the spinning-wheel. 

My peace is gone ; 
My heart is heavy ; 
I shall find it never, 
And never more. 

Where I have him not, 
Is the grave to me. 
The whole world 
Is embittered to me. 

My poor head 
Is wandering, 
My feeble sense 
Distraught. 

My peace is gone ; 
My heart is heavy ; 
I shall find it never, 
And never more. 



( 151 ) 

For him alone look I 
Out at the window ! 
For him alone go I 
Out of the house ! 

His stately step, 
His noble form ; 
The smile of his mouth, 
The power of his eyes, 

And of his speech 
The witching flow; 
The pressure of his hand, 
And, ah ! his kiss ! 

My peace is gone ; 
My heart is heavy ; 
I shall find it never, 
And never more. 

My bosom struggles 
After him. 

Ah ! could I enfold him 
And hold him ! and kiss him 
As I would ! 
On his kisses 
Would I die away! 



( 152 ) 



MARTHA'S GARDEN. 

Margaret. Faust. 

Margaret. 
Promise me, Henry! 

Faust. 

What I can ! 

Margaret. 

Now, tell me, how do you feel as to religion ? You 
are a dear, good man, but I believe you don't think 
much of it. 

Faust. 

No more of that, my child ! you feel I love you : I 
would lay down my life for those I love, nor would I 
deprive any of their feeling and their church. 

Margaret. 
That is not right ; we must believe in it. 

Faust. 

Must we ? 

Margaret. 

Ah ! if I had any influence over you ! Besides, you 
do not honour the holy sacraments. 

Faust. 

I honour them. 

Margaret. 

But without desiring them. It is long since you 
went to mass or confession. Do you believe in God ? 



( 15a ) 

Faust. 

My love, who dares say, I believe in God ? You may 
ask priests and philosophers, and their answer will 
appear but a mockery of the questioner. 

Margaret. 
You don't believe, then ? 

Faust. 

Mistake me not, thou lovely one! Who dare name 
him? and who avow: " I believe in him?" Who feel 
— and dare to say : "I believe in him not?" The All- 
embracer, the All-sustainer, does he not embrace and 
sustain thee, me, himself? Does not the heaven arch 
itself there above? — Lies not the earth firm here 
below ? — And do not eternal stars rise, kindly twink- 
ling, on high ? — Are we not looking into each other's 
eyes, and is not all thronging to thy head and heart, 
and weaving in eternal mystery, invisibly — visibly, 
about thee ? — With it fill thy heart, big as it is, and 
when thou art wholly blest in the feeling, then call it 
what thou wilt! Call it Bliss !— Heart ! — Love! — 
God ! I have no name for it ! Feeling is all in all. 
Name is sound and smoke, clouding heaven's glow. 
Margaret. 

That is all very fine and good. The priest says 
nearly the same, only with somewhat different words. 
Faust. 

All hearts in all places under the blessed light of 



( 154 ) 

day say it, each in its own language — why not in 
mine ? 

Margaret. 

Thus taken, it may pass ; but, for all that, there is 
something wrong about it, for thou hast no Chris- 
tianity. 

Faust. 

Dear child ! 

Margaret. 

I have long been grieved at the company I see you 

in. 

Faust. 

How so? 

Margaret. 

The man you have with you is hateful to me in my 
inmost soul. Nothing in the whole course of my life 
has given my heart such a pang, as the repulsive visage 
of that man. 

Faust. 

Fear him not, you silly little thing. 

Margaret. 

His presence makes my blood creep. With this 
exception, I have kind feelings towards every body. 
But, much as I long to see you, I have an unaccount- 
able horror of that man, and hold him for a rogue 
besides. God forgive me, if I do him wrong. 



( 155 ) 

Faust. 

There must be such oddities, notwithstanding. 
Margaret. 

I would not live with the like of him. Whenever 
he comes to the door, he looks so mockingly, and with 
fury but half-suppressed ; one sees that he sympathises 
with nothing. It is written on his forehead, that he 
can love no living soul. I feel so happy in thy arms — 
so unrestrained — in such glowing abandonment; and 
his presence closes up my heart, 
Faust. 

You misgiving angel, you ! 

Margaret. 

It overcomes me to such a degree, that when he but 
chances to join us, I even think I do not love you any 
longer. And in his presence, I should never be able 
to pray ; and this eats into my heart. You, too, Henry, 
must feel the same. 

Faust. 
You have an antipathy. 

Margaret. 

I must go now. 

Faust. 

Ah, can I never recline one little hour undisturbed 
upon thy bosom, and press heart to heart and soul to 
soul ! 



s 



( 156 ) 
Margaret. 

Ah, did I but sleep alone ! I would gladly leave the 
door unbolted for you this very night. But my mother 
does not sleep sound, and were she to catch us, I should 
die upon the spot. 

Faust. 

Thou angel, there is no fear of that. You see this 
phial ! Only three drops in her drink will gently en- 
velop nature in deep sleep. 

Margaret. 

What would I not do for thy sake ? It will do her 
no harm, I hope. 

Faust. 

Would I recommend it to you, my love, if it could? 
Margaret. 

If, best of men, I do but look on you, I know not 
what drives me to. comply with your will. I have 
already done so much for you, that next to nothing 
now remains for me to do. [Exit. 
(Mephistopheles enters. J 
Mephistopheles. 
The silly monkey ! is she gone. 

Faust. 

Hast thou been playing the spy again ? 

Mephistopheles. 
I heard what passed plainly enough. You were * 



( 157 ) 

catechised, Doctor. Much good may it do you. The 
girls are certainly deeply interested in knowing whe- 
ther a man be pious and plain after the old fashion. 
They say to themselves : " if he is pliable in that 
matter, he will also be pliable to us." 

Faust. 

Thou, monster as thou art, canst not conceive how 
this fond, faithful soul, full of her faith, which, accord- 
ing to her notions, is alone capable of conferring eternal 
happiness, feels a holy horror to think that she must 
hold the man who is dearest to her for lost. 

Mephistopheles. 

Thou super-sensual, sensual lover, a chit of a girl 
leads thee by the nose. 

Faust. 

Thou abortion of dirt and fire ! 

Mephistopheles. 
And she is knowing in physiognomy too. In my 
presence she feels she knows not how. This little 
mask betokens some hidden sense. She feels that I 
am most assuredly a genius — perhaps the devil him- 
self. To night, then — ? 

Faust. 

What is that to you? 

Mephistopheles. 
I have my pleasure in it, though. 



( 158 ) 



AT THE WELL. 

Margaret and Bessy, with pitchers. 
Bessy. 

Have you heard nothing of Barbara? 

Margaret. 
Not a word. I go very little abroad. 

Bessy. 

Certainly, Sybella told it me to day. She has even 
made a fool of herself at last. That comes of playing 
the fine lady. 

Margaret. 

How so ? 

Bessy. 

It is a bad business. She feeds two now, when she 
eats and drinks. 

Margaret. 

Ah! 

Bessy. 

She is rightly served at last. What a time she has 
hung upon the fellow ! There was a promenading and 
a gallanting to village junkettings and dancing booths 
— she forsooth must be the first in every thing — he 



( 159 ) 

was ever treating her to tarts and wine. She thought 
great things of her beauty, and was so lost to honour 
as not to be ashamed to receive presents from him. 
There was then a hugging and kissing — and lo, the 
flower is gone ! 

Margaret. 

Poor thing ! 

Bessy. 

You really pity her ! When the like of us were at 
the spinning, our mothers never let us go down at 
night. She stood sweet with her lover ; on the bench 
before the door, and in the dark walk, the time was 
never too long for them. But now she may humble 
herself, and do penance, in a white sheet, in the church. 
Margaret. 
He will surely make her his wife. 

Bessy. 

He would be a fool if he did. A brisk young fellow 
has the world before him. Besides, he's off. 

Margaret. 
That is not handsome ! 

Bessy. 

If she gets him, it will go ill with her. The boys 
will tear her garland for her, and we will strew cut 
straw before her door. [Exit. 
Margaret ( going home.) 

How stoutly I could formerly revile, if a poor maiden 



( 160 ) 

chanced to make a slip ! how I could never find words 
enough to speak of another's shame ! How black it 
seemed to me ! and, blacken it as I would, it was never 
black enough for me — and blessed myself and felt so 
grand, and am now myself a prey to sin ! Yet — all 
that drove me to it, was, God knows, so sweet, so 
dear ! 



( 161 ) 



ZWINGER. 

( In the niche of the wall a devotional image of the Mater 
Dolorosa, with pots of flowers before it.) 

Margaret (places fresh flowers in the pots.) 

Ah, incline, 
Thou full of pain, 

Thy countenance graciously to my distress. 

The sword in thy heart, 

With thousand pangs 

Up-lookest thou to thy Son's death. 

To the Father look'st thou, 

And sendest sighs 

Aloft for his and thy distress. 

Who feels 
How rages 

My torment to the quick 1 
How the poor heart in me throbbeth, 
How it trembleth, how it yearneth, 
Knowest thou and thou alone ! 

M 



( 162 ) 

Whithersoe'er J go, 

What woe, what woe, what woe ! 

Grows within my bosom here ! 

Hardly, alas, am I alone, 

I weep, I weep, I weep, 

My heart is bursting within me ! 

The flower-pots on my window-sill 
Bedewed I with my tears, alas ! 
When I at morning's dawn 
Plucked these flowers for thee. 

When brightly in my chamber 
The rising sun's rays shone, 
Already, in all wretchedness, 
Was I sitting up in my bed. 

Help ! rescue me from shame and death ! 
Ah, incline, 
Thou full of pain, 

Thy countenance graciously to my distress 



( 163 ) 



NIGHT.— STREET BEFORE MARGARET'S 
DOOR. 

Valentine, ( a Soldier, Margaret's brother.) 

When I made one of a company, where many 
like to show off, and the fellows were loud in their 
praises of the flower of maidens, and drowned their 
commendation in bumpers, — with my elbows leaning 
on the board, I sat in quiet confidence, and listened to 
all their swaggering; then I stroke my beard with a 
smile, and take the bumper in my hand, and say : 
" All in its way ! but is there one in the whole country 
to compare with my dear Margaret, — who is fit to hold 
a candle to my sister?" Hob and nob, Ming! klang! 
so it went round! Some shouted, " he is right; she is 
the pearl of the whole sex;" and all those praisers 
were dumb. And now — it is enough to make one tear 
out one's hair by the roots, and run up the walls — I 
shall be twitted by the sneers and taunts of every 
knave, shall sit like a bankrupt debtor, and sweat at 
every chance word. And though I might crush them 
at a blow, yet I could not call them liars. Who comes 
there ? Who is slinking this way ? If I mistake not , 
there are two of them. If it is he, I will have at him 
at once ; he shall not leave this spot alive. 

m 2 



( 164 ) 
Faust. 

How from the window of the Sacristy there, the light 
of the eternal lamp flickers upwards, and glimmers 
weaker and weaker at the sides, and darkness thickens 
round ! Just so is all night-like in my breast. 

Mephistopheles. 

And I feel languishing like the tom-cat, that sneaks 
up the fire-ladders and then creeps stealthily round the 
walls. I feel quite virtuously, — with a spice of thievish 
pleasure, a spice of wantonness. In such a manner 
does the glorious Walpurgis night already thrill me 
through every limb. The day after to-morrow it comes 
round to us again ; there one knows what one wakes 
for. 

Faust. 

In the mean time, can that be the treasure rising, — 
that which I see glimmering yonder ? 

Mephistopheles. 

You will soon enjoy the lifting up of the casket. I 
lately took a squint at it. There are capital lion- 
dollars within. 

Faust. 

Not a trinket — not a ring — to adorn my lovely mis- 
tress with? 

Mephistopheles. 
I think I saw some such thing there as a sort of pearl 
necklace. 



( 165 ) 
Faust. 

That is well. I feel sorry when I go to her without 
a present. 

Mephistopheles. 
You ought not to regret having some enjoyment 
gratis. Now that the heavens are studded thick with 
stars, you shall hear a true piece of art. I will sing 
her a moral song, to make a fool of her the more 
certainly. 

(He sings to the guitar.) 

What are you doing here, Catherine, before your 
lover's door at morning dawn ? Stay, and beware ! he 
lets thee in a maid, not to come out a maid. 

Beware ! If it be done, then good night to you, you 
poor, poor things. If you love yourselves, do no- 
thing to pleasure any spoiler, except with the ring on 
the finger. 

Valentine comes forward. 
Whom art thou luring here ? by God ! thou cursed 
ratcatcher ! First, to the devil with the instrument, 
then to the devil with the singer. 

Mephistopheles. 
The guitar is broken to pieces ! It is all up with it! 

Valentine. 
Now then for a scull-cracking. 

Mephistopheles to Faust. 
Don't give way, Doctor ! Courage ! Stick close, 



( 166 ) 

and do as I tell you. Out with your toasting-iron! 
Thrust away and I will parry. 

Valentine. 

Parry that ! 

Mephistopheles. 

Why not ? 

Valentine. 

And that ! 

Mephistopheles. 

To be sure. 

Valentine. 

I believe the devil is fighting. What is that ? My 
hand is already getting powerless. 

Mephistopheles to Faust. 
Thrust home ! 

Valentine falls. 

Oh, torture! 

Mephistopheles. 
The clown is tamed now. But away ! We must 
vanish in a twinkling, for a horrible outcry is already 
raised. I am perfectly at home with the police, but 
should find it hard to clear scores with the criminal 
courts. 

Martha ( at the window.) 

Out! out! 

Margaret ( at the window.) 
Bring a light ! 



( 167 ) 

Martha ( as before.) 
They are railing and scuffling, screaming and fight- 
ing. 

People. 
Here lies one dead already. 

Martha ( coming out.) 
Have the murderers escaped ? 

Margaret ( coming out ) 
Who lies here ? 

People. 

Thy mother's son. 

Margaret. 
Almighty God ! what misery ! 

Valentine. 

I am dying ! that is soon said, and sooner still done. 
What are you women howling and wailing about? Ap- 
proach and listen to me. ( All come round him.) 

Look ye, Margaret ! you are still young ! you are 
not yet adroit enough, and manage your matters ill. 
I tell it you in confidence ; since you are, once for all, 
a whore, be one in good earnest. 

Margaret. 

Brother ! God ! What do you mean ? 

Valentine. 

Leave God out of the game. What is done, alas ! 
cannot be undone, and things will take their course. 
You begin privately with one ; more of them soon 



( 168 ) 

follow ; and when a dozen have had you, the whole 
town will have you too. 

When first Shame is born, she is brought into the 
world clandestinely, and the veil of night is drawn over 
her head and ears. Aye, people would fain stifle her. 
But when she grows and waxes big, she walks flaunt- 
ingly in open day, and yet is not a whit the fairer. 
The uglier her face becomes, the more she courts the 
light of day. 

I already see the time when all honest citizens will 
turn aside from you, you whore, as from an infected 
corpse. Your heart will sink within you when they 
look you in the face. You will wear no golden chain 
again ! No more will you stand at the altar in the 
church, nor take pride in a fair lace collar at the 
dance. You will hide yourself in some dark miserable 
corner, amongst beggars and cripples, and, even should 
God forgive you, be cursed upon earth ! 

Martha. 

Commend your soul to God's mercy. Will you yet 
heap the sin of slander upon your soul. 

Valentine. 

Could I but get at thy withered body, thou shame- 
less bawd, I should hope to find a full measure of par- 
don for all my sins ! 

Margaret. 
My brother! Oh, this agonizing pang! 



( 169 ) 
Valentine. 

Have done with tears, I tell you. When you re- 
nounced honour, you gave me the deepest heart-stab of 
all. I go through death's sleep unto God, a soldier 
and a brave one. ( He dies.) 



( 170 ) 



CATHEDRAL. 
SERVICE, ORGAN, and ANTHEM. 

Margaret amongst a number of People. Evil Spirit 
behind Margaret. 

Evil Spirit. 
How different was it with thee, Margaret, 
When still full of innocence 
Thou earnest to the altar here — 
Out of the well-worn little book 
Lispedst prayers, 
Half child-sport, 
Half God in the heart ! 
Margaret ! 
Where is thy head ? 
In thy heart 
What crime? 

Prayest thou for thy mother's soul — who 
Slept over into long, long pain through thee ? 
Whose blood on thy threshold ? 

And under thy heart 

Stirs it not quickening even now, 
Torturing itself and thee 
With its foreboding presence? 



( 171 ) 

Margaret. 

Woe ! woe ! 

Would that I were free from the thoughts, 
That come over me and across me 
Despite of me ! 

Chorus. 
Dies irse, dies ilia, 

Solvet sseclum in favilla. ( Organ plays.) 

Evil Spirit. 
Horror seizes thee ! 
The Trump sounds ! 
The graves tremble ! 
And thy heart 
From the repose of its ashes 
For fiery torment 
Brought to life again, 
Trembles up ! 

Margaret. 
Would that I were hence ! 
I feel as if the organ 
Stifled my breath, 
As if the anthem 
Dissolved my heart's core ! 

Chorus. 
Judex ergo cum sedebit 
Quidquid latet adparebit 
Nil inultum remanebit. 



( ) 

Margaret. 
I feel so thronged ! 
The wall-pillars 
Close on me ! 
The vaulted roof 
Presses on me ! — Air ! 

Evil Spirit. 
Hide thyself! Sin and shame 
Remain, unhidden. 
Air? Light? 
Woe to thee ! 

Chorus. 
Quid sum miser tunc dicturus? 
Quern patronum rogaturus ? 
Cum vix justus sit securus. 

Evil Spirit. 
The glorified from thee 
Avert their faces. 
The pure shudder 
To reach thee their hands. 
Woe! 

Chorus. 
Quid sum miser tunc dicturus ? 

Margaret. 
Neighbour ! your smelling-bottle ! 

C She swoons am 



( 178 ) 



MAY-DAY NIGHT. 
THR HARTZ MOUNTAINS. 

District of Schirke and Elend. 

Faust — Mephistopheles. 

Mephistopheles. 
Do you not long for a broomstick ? For my part, 
I should be glad of the roughest he-goat. By this 
road we are still far from our destination. 

Faust. 

So long as I feel fresh upon my legs, this knotted 
stick suffices me. What is the use of shortening the 
way ? To creep along the labyrinth of the vales, and 
then ascend these rocks, from which the ever-bubbling 
spring precipitates itself, — this is the pleasure which 
gives zest to such a path. The spring is already 
weaving in the birch trees, and even the pine is begin- 
ning to feel it, — ought it not to have some effect upon 
our limbs ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Verily, I feel nothing of it. All is wintry in my 
body, and I should prefer frost and snow upon my 
path. How melancholy the imperfect disk of the red 



( 174 ) 

moon rises with belated glare ! and gives so bad a light, 
that, at every step, one runs against a tree or a rock. 
With your leave, I will call a will-o'the-wisp. I see 
one yonder, burning right merrily. Holloa, there, my 
friend! may I intreat your company? Why wilt thou 
blaze away so uselessly ? Be so good as to light us up 
along here. 

Will-o'the-Wisp. 
Out of reverence, I hope, I shall succeed in subduing 
my unsteady nature. Our course is ordinarily but a 
zigzag one. 

Mephistopheles. 
Ha! ha ! you think to imitate men. But go straight, 
in the devil's name, or I will blow your flickering life 
out. 

Will-o'the-Wisp. 
I see well that you are master here, and will wil- 
lingly accommodate myself to you. But consider ! the 
mountain is magic-mad to-night, and if a will-o'-the- 
wisp is to show you the way, you must not be too par- 
ticular. 

Faust, Mephistopheles, Will-o'the-Wisp, in alter- 
nating song. 

Into the sphere of dreams and enchantment, it seems, 
have we entered. Lead us right, and do yourself cre- 
dit! — that we may advance betimes in the wide, deso- 
late regions. 



( 175 ) 

See trees after trees, how rapidly they move by ; and 
the cliffs, that bow, and the long-snouted rocks, how 
they snort, how they blow ! 

Through the stones, through the turf, brook and 
brookling hurry down. Do I hear rustling ? do I hear 
songs? do I hear the sweet plaint of love? — voices 
of those blest days ? — what we hope, what we love ! 
And Echo, like the tale of old times, sends back the 
sound. 

Too-whoo, too-whoo — it sounds nearer; the owl, 
the pewet, and the jay, — have they all remained awake? 
Are those salamanders through the brake, with their 
long legs, thick paunches ? And the roots, like snakes, 
wind from out of rock and sand, and stretch forth 
strange filaments to terrify, to seize us ; from coarse 
speckles, instinct with life, they set polypus-fibres for 
the traveller. And the mice, thousand-coloured, in 
whole tribes, through the moss and through the heath ! 
And the glow-worms fly, in crowded swarms, a con- 
founding escort. 

But tell me whether we stand still, or whether we 
are moving on. Every thing seems to turn round, — 
rocks and trees, which make grimaces, and the will- 
o'the-wisps, which multiply, which swell themselves 
out. 

Mephistopheles. 
Keep a stout hold of my skirt ! Here is a central 



( 176 ) 

peak, from which one sees with wonder how Mammon 
is glowing in the mountain. 

Faust. 

How strangely a melancholy light, of morning red, 
glimmers through the mountain gorges, and quivers 
even to the deepest recesses of the precipice. Here 
rises a mine-damp, there float exhalations. Here the 
glow sparkles out of gauze-like vapour, then steals 
along like a fine thread, and then again bursts forth 
like a fountain. Here it winds, a whole track, with a 
hundred veins, through the valley ; and here, in the 
compressed corner, it scatters itself at once. There 
sparks are sputtering near, like golden sand upsprinkled 
in the air. But, see ! the towering rock is on fire in 
all its height. 

Mephistopheles. 
Does not Sir Mammon illuminate his palace magni- 
ficently for this festival ? It is lucky that you have 
seen it. I already see traces of the boisterous guests. 
Faust. 

How the storm-blast is raging through the air ! With 
what thumps it strikes against my neck ! 

Mephistopheles. 

You must lay hold of the old ribs of the rock, or it 
will hurl you down into this abyss. A mist thickens 
the night. Hark ! what a crashing through the forest ! 
The owls fly scared away. Hark, to the splintering of 



( 177 ) 

the pillars of the ever-green palaces ! the crackling and 
snapping of the boughs, the mighty groaning of the 
trunks, the creaking and yawning of the roots! — All 
come crashing down, one over the other, in fearfully- 
confused fall ; and the winds hiss and howl through the 
wreck-covered cliffs ! Dost thou hear voices aloft ? — 
in the distance? — close at hand? — Aye, a raving witch- 
song streams along the whole mountain. 

The Witches, in chorus. 
To the Brocken the witches repair! The stubble is 
yellow, the sown-fields are green. There the huge 
multitude is assembled. Sir Urian sits at the top. On 

they go, over stone and stock ; the witch s, the 

he-goat s. 

Voices. 

Old Baubo comes alone ; she rides upon a farrow- 
sow. 

Chorus. 

Then honour to whom honour is due ! Mother 
Baubo to the front, and lead the way ! A proper sow 
and mother upon her, — then follows the whole swarm 
of witches. 

Voice. 

Which way did you come ? 

Voice. 

By Ilsenstein. I there peeped into the owl's nest. 
She gave me such a look ! 

N 



( 178 ) 
Voice. 

Oh, drive to hell ! What a rate you are riding at ! 
Voice. 

She has grazed me in passing : only look at the 
wound ! 

Chorus of Witches. 
The way is broad — the way is long. What mad 
throng is this ? The fork sticks — the besom scratches : 
the child is suffocated — the mother bursts. 

Wizards. — Half-Chorus. 
We steal along like snails in their house ; the women 
are all before ; for, in going to the house of the wicked 
one, the woman is a thousand steps in advance. 
The other Half. 
We do not take that so precisely. The woman does 
it with a thousand steps ; but, let her make as much 
haste as she can, the man does it at a single bound. 
Voices ( above.) 
Come with us, come with us, from Felsensee ! 

Voices (from below.) 
We should like to mount with you. We wash, and 
are thoroughly clean, but we are ever barren. 

Both Chorusses. 
The wind is still, the stars fly, the melancholy moon 
is glad to hide herself. The magic-choir sputters forth 
sparks by thousands in its whizzing. 

Voice (from below.) 

Hold! hold! 



( 179 ) 

Voice (from above.) 
Who calls there, from the cleft in the rock ? 

Voice (from below.) 
Take me with you ! take me with you ! I have been 
mounting for three hundred years already, and cannot 
reach the top. I would fain be with my fellows. 
Both Chorusses, 
The besom carries, the stick carries, the fork carries, 
the he-goat carries. Who cannot raise himself to- 
night, is lost for ever. 

Demi-W t itch (below.) 
I have been tottering after such a length of time; — 
how far the others are a-head already ! I have no rest 
at home, — and don't get it here neither. 

Chorus of Witches. 
The salve gives courage to the witches ; a rag is good 
for a sail ; every trough makes a good ship ; he will 
never fly, who flew not to-night. 

Both Chorusses. 
And when we round the peak, let yourselves down 
upon the ground, and cover the heath far and wide 
with your swarm of witch-hood. 

(They let themselves down.) 
Mephistopheles. 
There's crowding and pushing, rustling and clatter- 
ing ! There's whizzing and twirling, bustling and bab- 
bling ! There's glittering, sparkling, stinking, burn- 
n 2 



( 180 ) 

ing ! A true witch-element ! But stick close to me, 
or we shall be separated in a moment. Where art 
thou? 

Faust (in the distance.) 

Here! 

Mephistopheles. 
What ! already torn away so far ? I must exert my 
authority as master. Room ! Squire Voland comes ! 
Make room, sweet people, make room ! Here, Doctor, 
take hold of me ! and now, at one bound, let us get 
clear of the crowd. It is too mad, even for the like 
of me. Hard by there, shines something with a pecu- 
liar light. Something attracts me towards those bushes. 
Come along, we will slip in there. 

Faust. 

Thou spirit of contradiction ! But go on ! thou may'st 
lead me. But it was wisely done, to be sure ! We 
repair to the Brocken on Walpurgis' night — to try and 
isolate ourselves when we get here. 

Mephistopheles. 
Only see what variegated flames ! A merry club is 
met together. One is not alone in a small company. 
Faust. 

I should prefer being above, though! I already 
see flame and eddying smoke. Yonder the multitude 
is streaming to the Evil One. Many a riddle must 
there be united. 



( 181 ) 

Mephistopheles. 
And many a riddle is also tied anew. Let the great 
world bluster as it will, we will here house ourselves 
in peace. It is an old saying, that in the great world 
one makes little worlds. Yonder I see young witches, 
naked and bare, and old ones, who prudently cover 
themselves. Be compliant, if only for my sake ; the 
trouble is small, the sport is great. I hear the tuning 
of instruments. Confounded jangle ! One must ac- 
custom oneself to it. Come along, come along ! it 

i 

cannot be otherwise. I will go forward and introduce 
you, and I shall lay you under a fresh obligation. 
What sayest thou, friend ? This is no trifling space. 
Only look ! you can hardly see the end. A hundred 
fires are burning in a row. People are dancing, talk- 
ing, cooking, drinking, love-making! Now tell me 
where anything better is to be found! 

Faust. 

To introduce us here, do you intend to present 
yourself as wizard or devil ? 

Mephistopheles. 

In truth, I am much used to go incognito. But one 
shows one's orders on gala days. I have no garter to 
distinguish me, but the cloven foot is held in high 
honour here. Do you see the snail there ? she comes 
creeping up, and with her feelers has already found out 
something in me. Even if I would, I could not deny 



( 182 ) 

myself here. But come ! we will go from fire to fire ; 
I will be the pander, and you shall be the gallant. 

( To some who are sitting round some expiring embers.) 
Old gentlemen, what are you doing here at the extre- 
mity ? I should commend you, did I find you nicely 
in the middle, in the thick of the riot and youthful 
revelry. Every one is surely enough alone at home. 
General. 

Who can put his trust in nations, though he has done 
ever so much for them? For with the people, as with 
the women, youth has always the upper hand. 

Minister. 

At present people are wide astray from the right 
path — the good old ones for me! For, verily, when 
we were all in all, that was the true golden age. 
Parvenu. 

We, too, were certainly no fools, and often did what 
we ought not. But now every thing is turned topsy- 
turvy, and just when we wished to keep it firm. 
Author. 

Who now-a-days, speaking generally, likes to read 
a work of even moderate sense ? And as for the rising 
generation, they were never so malapert. 
Mephistopheles (who all at once appears very old.) 

I feel the people ripe for doomsday, now that I 
ascend the witch-mountain for the last time ; and be- 



( 183 ) 

cause my own cask runs thick, the world also is come 
to the dregs. 

A Witch ( who sells old clothes fyc. and frippery . ) 

Do not pass by in this manner, gentlemen ! Now is 
your time. Look at my wares attentively; I have 
them of all sorts. And yet there is nothing in my shop 
— which has not its fellow upon earth — that has not, 
some time or other, wrought proper mischief to man- 
kind and to the world. There is no dagger here, from 
which blood has not flowed; no chalice, from which hot 
consuming poison has not been poured into a healthy 
body ; no trinket, which has not seduced some amiable 
woman ; no sword, which has not cut some tie asunder, 
which has not perchance stabbed an adversary from 
behind. 

Mephistopheles. 
Cousin! you understand but ill the temper of the 
times. Done, happened ! Happened, done ! Take to 
dealing in novelties; novelties only have any attraction 
for us. 

Faust. 

If I can but keep my senses ! This is a fair with a 
vengeance ! 

Mephistopheles. 
The whole throng struggles upwards. You think 
to shove, and you yourself are shoved. 

Faust. 

Who, then, is that ? 



( 184 ) 

Mephistopheles. 
Mark her well ! That is Lilith. 

Faust. 

Who? 

Mephistopheles. 
Adam's first wife. Beware of her fair hair, of that 
ornament in which she shines pre-eminent. When she 
ensnares a young man with it, she does not let him off 
again so easily. 

Faust. 

There sit two, the old one with the young one. They 
have already capered a good bit ! 

Mephistopheles. 
That has neither stop nor stay to-night. A new dance 
is beginning ; come, we will set to. 

Faust ( dancing with the young one.) 
I had once upon a time a fair dream. In it, I saw 
an apple-tree ; two lovely apples glittered on it : they 
enticed me, I climbed up. 

The Fair One. 
You are very fond of apples, and have been so from 
Paradise downwards. I feel moved with joy, that my 
garden also bears such. 

Mephistopheles ( with the old one.) 
I had once upon a time a wild dream. In it, I saw a 

cleft tree. It had a ; as it was, 

it pleased me notwithstanding. 



f 

( 185 ) 

The Old One. 
I present my best respects to the knight of the cloven 

foot. Let him have a ready, if he does not 

fear . 

Procktophantasmist. 
Confounded mob ! how dare you ? Was it not long 
since demonstrated to you ? A spirit never stands upon 
ordinary feet ; and you are actually dancing away, like 
us other mortals ! 

The Fair One. 

What does he come to our ball for then ? 

Faust, dancing. 

Ha ! He is absolutely everywhere. He must ap- 
praise what others dance ! If he cannot talk about 
eve^r step, the step is as good as never made at all. 
He is most vexed, when we go forwards. If you would 
but turn round in a circle, as he does in his old mill, 
he would term that good, I dare say ; particularly were 
you to consult him about it. 

Procktophantasmist. 

You are still here, then! No, that is unheard of! 
But vanish! We have enlightened the world, you 
know ! That devil's crew, they pay no attention to rule. 
We are so wise, — and Tegel is haunted, notwithstand- 
ing ! How long I have been sweeping away at the 
delusion ; and it never becomes clean ! It is unheard 
of! 



( 186 ) 

The Fair One. 
Have done boring us here, at any rate, then ! 

Procktophantasmist. 
I tell you Spirits, to your faces, I endure not the 
despotism of the spirit. My spirit cannot exercise it. 
( The dancing goes on.) 
To-night, I see, I shall succeed in nothing; but I 
am always ready for a journey; and still hope, before 
my last step, to get the better of the devils and the 
poets. 

Mephistopheles. 
He will, forthwith, seat himself in a puddle ; that is 
his mode of solacing himself ; and when leeches have 
feasted on his rump, he is cured of spirits and spirit. 

( To Faust, who has left the dance.) 
Why do you leave the pretty girl, who sung so sweetly 
to you in the dance ? 

Faust. 

Ah ! in the middle of the song, a red mouse jumped 
out of her mouth. 

Mephistopheles. 
There is nothing out of the way in that. One must 
not be too nice about such matters. Enough that the 
mouse was not grey. Who cares for such things in a 
moment of enjoyment. 

Faust. 

Then I saw — • 



( 187 ) 
Mephistopheles. 

What? 

Faust. 

Mephisto, do you see yonder a pale, fair girl stand- 
ing alone and far off? She drags herself but slowly 
from the place : she seems to move with fettered feet. 
I must own, she seems to me to resemble poor Mar- 
garet. 

Mephistopheles. 
Do but let that alone ! no good can come of it. It 
is a creation of enchantment, is lifeless, — an idol. It 
is not well to meet it ; the blood of man thickens at 
its chill look, and he is well nigh turned to stone. 
You have heard, no doubt, of Medusa. 

Faust. 

In truth, they are the eyes of a corpse, which there 
was no fond hand to close. That is the bosom, which 
Margaret yielded to me ; that is the sweet body, which 
I enjoyed. 

Mephistopheles. 
That is sorcery, thou easily deluded fool; for she 
wears to every one the semblance of his beloved. 
Faust. 

What bliss ! what suffering ! I cannot tear myself 
from that look. How strangely does a single red line, 
no thicker than the back of a knife, adorn that lovely 
neck. 



( 188 ) 

Mephistopheles. 
Right ! I see it too. She can also carry her head 
under her arm, for Perseus has cut it off for her. But 
ever this fondness for delusion ! Come up the hill, 
however ; here all is as merry as in the Prater ; and, 
if I am not bewitched, I actually see a theatre. What 
is going on here, then 1 

Servibilis. 

They will recommence immediately. A new piece, 
the last of seven ; — it is the custom here to give so 
many. A dilettante has written it, and dilettanti play 
it. Excuse me, Gentlemen, but I must be off. It is 
my dilettante office to draw up the curtain. 

Mephistopheles. 

When I find you upon the Blocksberg, — that is just 
what I approve ; for this is the proper place for you. 



WALPURGIS-NIGHT'S DREAM; 

OR, 

OBERON AND TITANIA'S 
GOLDEN WEDDING-FEAST. 



Intermezzo. 



( 191 ) 



Theatre-Manager. 
To-day we rest for once; we, the brave sons of 
Mieding. Old mountain and damp dale, — that is the 
whole scenery! 

Herald. 

That the wedding-feast may be golden, fifty years 
are to be past ; but if the quarrel is over, I shall like 
the golden the better. 

Oberon. 

If ye spirits are with me, this is the time to show it: 
the king and the queen, they are united anew. 
Puck. 

When Puck comes and whirls himself about, and his 
foot goes whisking in the dance, — hundreds come after 
to rejoice along with him. 

Ariel. 

Ariel awakes the song, in tones of heavenly purity : 
his music lures many trifles, but it also lures the fair. 
Oberon. 

Wedded ones, who would agree, — let them take a 
lesson from us two. To make a couple love each 
other, it is only necessary to separate them. 



( 192 ) 

TlTANIA. 

If the husband looks gruff, and the wife be whim- 
sical, take hold of both of them immediately. Con- 
duct me her to the South, and him to the extremity of 
the North. 

Orchestra tutti. 
Fortissimo. 

Flies' snouts, and gnats' noses, with their kindred ! 
Frog in the leaves, and cricket in the grass : they are 
the musicians ! 

Solo. 

See, here comes the bagpipe ! It is the soap-bubble. 
Hark to the Schnecke-schnicke-schnack through its 
snub nose. 

Spirit that is fashioning itself. 

Spider's foot and toad's belly, and little wings for 
the little wight ! It does not make an animalcula, it is 
true, but it makes a little poem. 

A Pair of Lovers. 

Little step and high bound, through honey-dew and 
exhalations. Truly, you trip it me enough, but you do 
not mount into the air. 

Inquisitive Traveller. 

Is not this masquerading-mockery ? Can I believe 
my eyes ? To see the beauteous god, Oberon, here 
to-night, too ! 



( 193 ) 
Orthodox. 

No claws, no tail ! Yet it stands beyond a doubt that, 
even as " The Gods of Greece," so is he too a devil. 
Northern Artist. 

What I catch, is at present only sketch-ways as it 
were ; but I prepare myself betimes for the Italian 
journey. 

Purist. 

Ah ! my ill-fortune brings me hither ; what a con- 
stant scene of rioting! and of the whole host of 
witches, only two are powdered. 

Young Witch. 
Powder as well as petticoats are for little old and 
grey women. Therefore I sit naked upon my he-goat, 
and show a stout body. 

Matron. 

We have too much good-breeding to squabble with 
you here. But I hope you will rot, young and delicate 
as you are. 

Leader of the Band. 
Flies' snouts and gnats' noses, don't swarm so about 
the naked. Frog in leaves, and cricket in the grass ! 
Continue, however, to keep time, I beg of y ou. 
Weathercock, towards one side. 
Company to one's heart's content ! Truly, nothing 
but brides ! and young bachelors, man for man ! the 
hopefullest people ! 

o 



( 194 ) 

Weathercock, towards the other side. 
And if the ground does not open, to swallow up all 
of them — with a quick run, I will immediately jump 
into hell. 

Xenien. 

We are here as insects, with little sharp nebs, to 
honour Satan, our worshipful papa, according to his 
dignity. 

Hennings. 

See ! how naively they joke together in a crowded 
troop. They will e'en say in the end, that they had 
good hearts. 

MUSAGET. 

I like full well to lose myself in this host of witches ; 
for, truly, I should know how to manage these better 
than Muses. 

Ci-devant Genius of the Age. 
With proper people, one becomes somebody. Come, 
take hold of my skirt ! The Blocksberg, like the 
German Parnassus, has a very broad top. 

Inquisitive Traveller. 
Tell me what is the name of that stiff man. He 
walks with stiff steps. He snuffles at every thing he 
can snuffle at. " He is scenting out Jesuits." 

The Crane. 

I like to fish in clear and even in troubled waters. 
On the same principle you see the pious gentleman 
associate even with devils. 



( 195 ) 



Worldling. 

Aye, for the pious, believe me, every thing is a ve- 
hicle. They actually form many a conventicle, here 
upon the Blocksherg. 

Dancer. 

Here is surely a new choir coming ! I hear distant 
drums. But don't disturb yourselves ! there are single- 
toned bitterns among the reeds. 

Dancing-Master,* 

How each throws up his legs ! gets on as best he 
may ! The crooked jumps, the clumsy hops, and asks 
not how it looks. 

Fiddler. 

How deeply this pack of ragamuffins hate each, and 
how gladly they would give each other the finishing 
blow ! The bagpipe unites them here, as Orpheus' 
lyre the beasts. 

Dogmatist. 

I will not be put out of my opinion, not by either 
critics or doubts. The Devil, though, must be some- 
thing ; for how else could there be a devil? 

Idealist. 

Phantasy, this once, is really too masterful in my 
mind. Truly, if I be All, I must be silly to-day. 

* This and the following stanza were added in the last complete 
Edition of Goethe's Works. 

O 2 



( 196 ) 

Realist. 

Entity is a regular plague to me, and cannot but 
vex me much. I stand here, for the first time, not firm 
upon my feet. 

SUPERNATURALIST. 

I am greatly pleased at being here, and am delighted 
with these ; for, from devils, I can certainly draw con- 
clusions as to good spirits. 

Sceptic 

They follow the track of the flame, and believe 
themselves near the treasure. Only doubt ( zweifel ) 
rhymes to devil ( teufel ). Here I am quite at home. 
Leader of the Band. 
Frog in the leaves, and cricket in the grass ! Con- 
founded dilettanti ! Flies' snouts and gnats' noses ; 
you are fine musicians ! 

The Knowing Ones. 
Sanscouci, that is the name of the host of merry 
creatures. There is no longer any walking upon feet, 
wherefore we walk upon our heads. 

The Maladroit Ones. 
In times past we have spunged many a tit-bit ; but 
now, good bye to all that ! Our shoes are danced 
through ; we run on bare soles. 

Will-o'the-Wisps. 
We come from the bog, from which we are just 
sprung ; but we are the glittering gallants here in the 
dance directly. 



( 197 ) 
Star-Shoot. 

From on high, in star-and-fire-light, I shot hither. 
I am now lying crooked-ways in the grass ; who will 
help me upon my legs ? 

The Massive Ones. 

Room! room! and round about! so down go the 
grass-stalks. Spirits are coming, but spirits as they are, 
they have plump limbs. 

Puck. 

Don't tread so heavily, like elephant's calves ; and 
the plumpest on this day, be the stout Puck himself. 
Ariel. 

If kind nature gave — if the spirit gave you wings, 
follow my light track up to the hill of roses ! 

Orchestra, pianissimo. 

Drifting clouds, and wreathed mists, brighten from 
on high ! Breeze in the leaves, and wind in the rushes, 
and all is dissipated ! 



( 198 ) 



A GLOOMY DAY.— A PLAIN. 

Faust. — Mephistopheles. 
Faust. 

In misery ! Despairing ! Long a wretched wanderer 
upon the earth, and now a prisoner ! The dear, unhappy 
being, cooped up in the dungeon, as a malefactor, for 
horrid tortures ! Even to that ! to that ! Treacherous, 
worthless Spirit, and this hast thou concealed from me ! 
Stand, only stand ! roll thy devilish eyes infuriated in 
thy head ! Stand and brave me with thy unbearable 
presence ! A prisoner ! In irremediable misery ! Given 
over to evil spirits, and to sentence-passing, unfeeling 
man! And me, in the mean time, hast thou been 
lulling with tasteless dissipations, concealing her grow- 
ing wretchedness from me, and leaving her to perish 
without help. 

Mephistopheles. 
She is not the first. 

Faust. 

Dog! horrible monster! — Turn him, thou Infinite 
Spirit ! turn the reptile back again into his dog's shape, 



( 199 ) 

in which he was often pleased to trot before me by 
night, to roll before the feet of the harmless wanderer, 
and fasten on his shoulders when he fell. Turn him 
again into his favourite shape, that he may crouch on 
his belly before me in the sand, whilst I spurn him 
with my foot, the reprobate ! Not the first ! Woe ! 
woe! It is inconceivable by any human soul, that 
more than one creature can have sunk into such a 
depth of misery, — that the first, in its writhing death- 
agony, was not sufficient to atone for the guilt of all 
the rest in the sight of the Ever-Pardoning. It 
harrows up my marrow and my very life, — the misery 
of this one : thou art grinning calmly at the fate of 
thousands. 

Mephistopheles. 
Now are we already at our wits ends again! just 
where the sense of you mortals snaps with overstrain- 
ing. Why dost thou enter into fellowship with us, if 
thou canst not go through with it ? Will'st fly, and art 
not safe from dizziness? Did we force ourselves on 
thee, or thou thyself on us ? 

Faust. 

Gnash not thy greedy teeth thus defyingly at me ! I 
loathe thee ! Great, glorious Spirit, thou who deignedst 
to appear to me, thou who knowest my heart and my 
soul, why yoke me to this shame-fellow, who feeds on 
mischief, and battens on destruction ! 



( 200 ) 

Mephistopheles. 

Hast done ? 

Faust. 

Save her ! or woe to thee ! The most horrible curse 
on thee for thousands of years ! 

Mephistopheles. 

I cannot loosen the shackles of the avenger, nor 
undo his bolts. — Save her ! — Who was it that plunged 
her into ruin ? I or thou ? 

( Faust looks wildly around.) 
Art thou grasping after the thunder? Well that it is 
not given to you wretched mortals ! To dash to pieces 
one who replies to you in all innocence — that is just 
the tyrant's way of venting himself in perplexities, 
Faust. 

Bring me thither ! She shall be free ! 

Mephistopheles. 
And the danger to which you expose yourself? 
Know, blood-guiltiness by your hand still lies upon the 
town. Avenging spirits hover over the place of the 
slain, and lie in wait for the returning murderer. 
Faust. 

That, too, from thee ? Murder and death of a world 
upon thee, monster ! Conduct me thither, I say, and 
free her ! 

Mephistopheles. 
I will conduct thee, and what I can, hear ! Have I 



( 201 ) 

all power in heaven and upon earth ? I will cloud the 
gaoler's senses ; do you possess yourself of the keys, 
and bear her off with human hand. I will watch ! The 
magic horses will be ready, I will bear you off. This 
much I can do. 

Faust. 

Up and away ! 



( 202 ) 



NIGHT.— OPEN PLAIN. 

Faust and Mephistopheles rushing along upon black 
horses. 

Faust. 

What are they working — those about the Raven- 
stone yonder ? 

Mephistopheles. 
— Can't tell what they're cooking and making. 
Faust. 

— Are waving upwards — waving downwards — bend- 
ing — stooping. 

Mephistopheles. 
A witch-company. 

Faust. 

They are sprinkling and charming. 

Mephistopheles. 

On! on! 



( 203 ) 



DUNGEON. 



Faust, 

C With a bunch of keys and a lamp, before an iron wicket.) 

A tremor, long unfelt, seizes me ; the concentrated 
misery of mankind fastens on me. Here, behind these 
damp walls, is her dwelling-place, and her crime was 
a good delusion! Thou hesitatest to go to her ! Thou 
fearest to see her again ! On ! thy irresolution lingers 
death hitherwards. 

(He takes hold of the lock.— Singing within.) 

My mother, the whore, 

That killed me ! 

My father, the rogue, 

That ate me up ! 

My little sister 

Picked up the bones 

At a cool place ! 

There 1 became a beautiful little wood-bird. 
Fly away ! fly away ! 



( 204 ) 

Faust ( opening the lock.) 
She has no presentiment that her lover is listening, 
hears the chains clank, the straw rustle. 

( He enters.) 
Margaret (hiding her face in the bed of straw.) 
Woe ! woe ! They come. Bitter death ! 

Faust ( softly.) 
Hush ! hush ! I come to free thee. 

Margaret ( throwing herself before him.) 
If thou art human^ feel for my wretchedness. 
Faust. 

You will wake the guard by your cries ! 

( He takes hold, of the chains to unlock them.) 
Margaret ( on her knees.) 
Who has given thee, headsman, this power over me ? 
You come for me whilst it is yet midnight. Be merci- 
ful and let me live. Is not to-morrow morning soon 
enough ? 

( She stands up.) 

I am yet so young, so young ! and am to die already ! 
I was fair, too, and that was my undoing ! My true- 
love was near — he is now far away. Torn lies the gar- 
land, scattered the flowers. Don't take hold of me so 
roughly ! Spare me ! What have I done to you ? Let 
me not implore in vain ! I never saw you before in all 
my life, you know ! 



( 205 ) 
Faust. 

I must endure this misery ! 

Margaret. 

I am now entirely in thy power. Only let me first 
give suck to the child. I pressed it this whole night 
to my heart. They took it away to vex me, and 
now say I killed it. And I shall never be happy 
again. They sing songs upon me ! It is wicked of the 
people. An old tale ends so, — who bids them apply 
it? 

Faust throws himself down. 
A lover lies at thy feet, to unloose the bonds of 
wretchedness. 

Margaret throws herself by his side. 
Aye, let us kneel to invoke the saints. See, under 
these steps, under the threshold, hell is seething ! The 
Evil One, with fearful fury, is making a din ! 

Faust passionately. 
Margaret! Margaret! 

Margaret listening. 
That was my true-love's voice. 

( She springs up. The chains fall off.) 
Where is he ? I heard him call. I am free ! Nobody 
shall hinder me. I will fly to his neck ! lie on his 
bosom ! He called Margaret ! He stood upon the 
threshold. In the midst, — through the howling and 
clattering of hell, — through the grim, devilish scoffing, 
I knew the sweet, the loving tone again. 



( 206 ) 
Faust. 

Tis I. 

Margaret. 
'Tis thou ! Ah, say so once again ! 

(Clasping him.) 

'Tis he ! 'Tis he ! Whither is all my wretchedness ? 
Whither the agony of the dungeon ? — the chains ? 'Tis 
thou ! Thou com'st to save me. I am saved ! — There 
again already is the street, where I saw thee for the first 
time ; and the cheerful garden, where I and Martha 
waited for thee. 

Faust, striving to take her away. 
Come ! come with me ! 

Margaret. 
Oh stay ! I like to stay where thou stayest. 

( Caressing him.) 

Faust. 

Haste ! If you do not make haste, we shall pay 
dearly for it. 

Margaret. 

What ! you can no longer kiss ? So short a time 
away from me, my love, and already forgotten how to 
kiss ! Why do I feel so sad upon your neck ? when, in 
other times, a whole heaven came over me from your 
words, your looks ; and you kissed me as if you were 
going to smother me ! Kiss me ! or I will kiss you ! 

( She embraces him.) 



- ( 207 ) 

woe! your lips are cold, — are dumb. Where have 
you left your love ? who has robbed me of it ? 

( She turns from him.) 

Faust. 

Come ! follow me ! take courage, my love. I will 
press thee to my heart with thousandfold warmth — 
only follow me ! I ask thee but this. 

Margaret, ( turning to him.) 
And is it thou, then ? And is it thou, indeed ? 
Faust. 

'Tis I. Come along ! 

Margaret. 

You undo my fetters, you take me to your bosom 
again ! How comes it that you are not afraid of me ? 
And do you then know, my love, whom you are free- 
ing ? 

Faust. 

Come, come ! the depth of night is already passing 
away. 

Margaret. 

I have killed my mother, I have drowned my child. 
Was it not bestowed on thee and me? — on thee, too ? 
'Tis thou ! I scarcely believe it. Give me thy hand. 
It is no dream — thy dear hand! — but oh, 'tis damp! 
wipe it off. It seems to me as if there was blood on it. 
Oh, God ! what hast thou done ? Put up thy sword ! 

1 pray thee, do ! 



( 208 ) 

Faust. 

Let what is past, be past. Thou wilt kill me. 

Margaret. 

No, you must remain behind. I will describe the 
graves to you ! you must see to them the first thing 
to-morrow. Give my mother the best place ; — my 
brother close by ; — me, a little on one side, only not 
too far off! And the little one on my right breast ; no 
one else will lie by me. To nestle to thy side, — that 
was a sweet, a dear delight ! But it will never be 
mine again. I feel as if I were irresistibly drawn to 
you, and you were thrusting me off. And yet 'tis 
you ; and you look so good, so kind. 

Faust. 

If you feel that 'tis I, come along. 

Margaret. 

Out there ? 

Faust. 

Into the free air ! 

Margaret. 

If the grave is without, if death lies in wait, — then 
come ! Hence into the eternal resting place, and not a 
step farther. — Thou art now going away ? O Henry, 
could I but go too ! 

Faust. 

Thou canst ! Only consent ! The door stands open. 



( 209 ) 
Margaret. 

I dare not go out ; there is no hope for me ! What 
avails it flying ? They are lying in wait for me. It 
is so miserable to be obliged to beg, — and, what is 
worse, with an evil conscience, too. It is so miserable 
to wander in a strange land, — and they will catch me, 
do as I will. 

Faust. 

I shall be with thee. 

Margaret. 

Quick, quick! Save thy poor child. Away! Keep 
the path up by the brook — over the bridge — into the 
wood — to the left where the plank is — in the pond. 
Only quick and catch hold of it ! it tries to rise ! it 
is still struggling ! Help ! help ! 

Faust. 

Be calm, I pray ! Only one step, and thou art free. 
Margaret. 

Were we but past the hill ! There sits my mother 
on a stone — my brain grows chill! — there sits my mo- 
ther on a stone, and waves her head to and fro. She 
beckons not, she nods not, her head is heavy ; she slept 
so long, she'll wake no more. She slept that we might 
enjoy ourselves. Those were pleasant times ! 

Faust. 

As no prayer, no persuasion, is here of any avail, 1 
will risk the bearing thee away. 

p 



( mo >. 

Margaret. 

Let me go ! No, I endure no violence ! Lay not 
hold of me so murderously ! Time was, you know, 
when I did all to pleasure you. 

Faust. 

The day is dawning ! My love ! my love ! 
Margaret. 

Day ! Yes, it is growing day ! The last day is 
breaking in ! My wedding-day it was to be ! Tell no 
one that thou hadst been with Margaret already. Woe 
to my garland ! It is all over now ! We shall meet 
again, but not at the dance. The crowd thickens ; it is 
not heard. The square, the streets, cannot hold them. 
The bell tolls ! — the staff breaks ! How they bind and 
seize me ! Already am I hurried off to the blood- seat ! 
Already quivering for every neck is the sharp steel 
which quivers for mine. Dumb lies the world as the 
grave ! 

Faust. 

Oh that I had never been born ! 

Mephistopheles appears without. 

Up ! or you are lost. Vain hesitation ! Lingering 
and prattling ! My horses shudder ; the morning is 
gloaming up. 

Margaret. 

What rises up from the floor ? He ! He ! Send 
him away ! What would he at the holy place ? He 
would me ! 



( 211 ) 
Faust. 

Thou shalt live ! 

Margaret. 

Judgment of God ! I have given myself up to thee. 

Mephistopheles to Faust. 
Come ! come ! I will leave you in the scrape with her. 
Margaret. 

Thine am I, Father ! Save me, ye Angels ! Ye 
Holy Hosts, range yourselves round about, to guard 
me ! Henry ! I tremble to look upon thee. 

Mephistopheles. 

She is judged ! 

Voice from above. 
Is saved ! 
Mephistopheles to Faust. 

Hither to me ! 

(disajypears with Faust.) 
Voice from within, dying away. 
Henry I Henry ! 



p 2 



NOTE S, 



NOTES. 



Page 1. They hear not the following lays — the souls to whom I 
sang my first.'] — To understand the Dedication, it is necessary 
to refer to the history of the book. The plan of Faust appears 
to have been in Goethe's mind very early in life. He puts it 
down amongst the works written between 1769 and 1775, in 
the list appended to the Stuttgart and Tubingen octavo edition 
of 1819. In the second part of the Dichtung und Wahrheit 
(Book 18), he states that he showed the newest scenes of Faust 
to Klopstock, w r ho expressed himself much pleased, and (con- 
trary to his custom) spoke of the poem with decided commen- 
dation to others. This must have taken place early in the year 
1775. Maler Mailer also, in the prefatory epistle to his Faust, 
published about 1778, mentions a report that Goethe and Les- 
sing were engaged upon the same subject. The poem was first 
published in 1790, and forms the commencement of the seventh 
volume of Goethe's Schriften : Wien und Leipzig, bey J. Stahel 
und G. J. Gdschen, 1 790. This edition is now before me. The 
poem is entitled, Faust: Fin Fragment (not Doktor Faust, Fin 
Trauerspiel, as During says), and contains no prologue or dedi- 
cation of any sort. It commences with the scene in Faust's 
study, ante, p. 17, and is continued as now down to the passage 
ending ante, p. 26, line, 5. In the original, the line — 

" Und froh ist, wenn er Regenwurmer findet" — 

ends the scene. The next scene is one between Faust and 
Mephistopheles, and begins thus : — 

Faust. 

****** 
" Und was der ganzen Menschheit zugetheilt ist"—- 



( 216 ) 



i. e. with the passage (ante, p. 70,) beginning: " I will enjoy 
in my own heart's core all that is parcelled out amongst man- 
kind," &c. All that intervenes in later editions is wanting. 
It is thenceforth continued as now to the end of the Cathedral 
scene (ante, p. 170); except that the whole scene in which Va- 
lentine is killed, is wanting. Thus Margaret's prayer to the 
Virgin, and the Cathedral scene, come together and form the 
conclusion of the work. According to During 's Verzeichniss, 
there was no new edition of Faust until 1807. According to 
Dr. Sieglitz, the First Part of Faust first appeared in its present 
shape in the collected edition of Goethe's works which was 
published in 1808. I applied to Cotta, but could get no defi- 
nite information as to the point, nor have I been yet fortunate 
enough to meet with the edition in question. 

p. 3. Prologue on the Theatre.] — It must be borne in mind 
that the theatre is one of those temporary theatres or booths 
which are common at fairs, and that the company is supposed 
to be an itinerant one. 

p. 3. Pleasing and instructive at once.'] — 

" Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci." — 

Horace. 

p. 4. The presence of a gallant lad, too, §c] — An excellent 
German scholar proposes : — " The present time by a fellow of 
ability." 

p. 5. People come to look.] — 

Segnius irritant animos demissa per aures, 
Quam quae sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus, et quae 
Ipse sibi tradit spectator." — 

Horace. 

p. 8. Much falsehood arid a spark of truth.]— T " I cannot tell 
why, this came truth is a naked and open daylight, that doth 



( 217 ) 



not show the masques, and mummeries, and triumphs of the 
present world, half so stately and daintily as candle lights. 
Truth may perhaps come to the price of a pearl, that showeth 
best by day ; but it will not rise to the price of a diamond or car- 
buncle, which showeth best in varied lights. A mixture of lies 
doth ever add pleasure. Doth any man doubt, that, if there 
were taken from men's minds vain opinions, flattering hopes, 
false valuations, imaginations as one ivould, and the like vinum 
Dsemonum (as a Father calleth poetry), but it would leave the 
minds of a number of men poor shrunken things, full of melan- 
lancholy and indisposition, and unpleasing to themselves?" — 
(Lord Bacon, quoted in The Friend, vol. i. p. 9.) 

p. 9. That, old gentlemen, is your duty.~\ — It was a favourite 
theory of Goethe, that the power of calling up the most vivid 
emotions was in no respect impaired by age, whilst the power 
of pourtraying them was greatly improved by experience. 

p> 9. Use the greater and the lesser light of heaven.~\ — "And 
God made two great lights; the greater light to rule the day, 
and the lesser light to rule the night; he made the stars also." 
—Gen. i. 17. 

" Und Gott machte zwey grosse Lichter: ein grosses Licht, 
das den Tag regiere, und ein kleines Licht, das die Nacht re- 
giere, dazu auch Sterne." — (Id. Luther's Translation.) 

Page 11. Prologue in Heaven.~] — The idea of this prologue 
is taken from the Book of Job, chapters 1st and 2nd. " It is 
worthy of remark," says Dr. Schubart, " that in the guise in 
which the poet introduces his Mephistopheles, a great differ- 
ence is to be seen between his mode of treating the principle 
of evil, and that followed by Klopstock, Milton, and Lord 
Byron in Cain. It has also been a matter of course, to hold to one 
side only of the biblical tradition, which represents Satan as an 
angel of light fallen through pride and haughtiness, endeavour- 
ing to disturb the glorious creation of the Supreme Being. 
Goethe, on the contrary, has adhered rather to the other side 



( 218 ) 



of the tradition, of which the Book of Job is the groundwork, ac- 
cording to which Satan or the Devil forms one of the Lord's 
Host, not as a rebel against his will, but as a powerful tempter, 
authorized and appointed as such &c." (Vorlesungen.) We 
are also called upon to admire the propriety of the parts as- 
signed to the Archangels in the Introductory Song. Dr. 
Hinrichs shows some anxiety to establish that The Lord 
depicted by Goethe, is The Lord of Christianity. On this 
subject he has the following note: — " That The Lord in this 
poem is the Christian God, and therefore the Divine Spirit, 
Cornelius also signifies in the title-page of his Illustrations 
of Faust, where the Lord, in the middle of an unequal square, 
begirt by a half circle of angels, bears the triple crown upon 
his head, and the terrestrial globe in his left hand; whilst 
in Retzsch's Illustrations of Faust, the Lord without the triple 
crown and the cross, does not express the Christian God, and 
for that reason the conception is not embraced by it."* — ( Vorl. 
p. 36.) 

The able writer in Fraser's Magazine, quoted post, p. 221, 
says that Der Herr means the Second Person of the Trinity. 
It would be difficult to reconcile this notion with the supposed 
analogy to the Book of Job. 

p. 11. The Sun chimes in, as ever, with the emulous music of' 
his brother spheres, .] — 

" Such music (as 'tis said) 
Before was never made, 

* The scene alluded to always struck me, for other reasons, to 
be the least successful of Retzsch's exquisite Outlines 5 the unri- 
valled imagination of our own Martin was wanting to throw over it 
that air of misty vastness which is the main element of sublimity in 
all delineations of the sort. Yet it is hardly fair to place these 
eminent men even in momentary contrast, as their lines of excel- 
lence are totally distinct, whilst they entertain an intense admiration 
of each other. 



( 219 ) 



But when of old the sons of morning sung, 
While the Creator great, 
His constellations set, 

And the well-balanc'd world on hinges hung, 

And cast the dark foundations deep, 

And bid the welt 'ring waves their oozy channel keep. 

Ring out, ye crystal Spheres, 

Once bless our human ears, 

(If ye have power to touch our senses so,) 

And let your silver chime 

Move in melodious time, 

And let the base of Heav'n's deep organ blow; 

And with your nine-fold harmony 

Make up full consort to th' angelic symphony." — 

Milton, 

Herder, in his comparison of Klopstock and Milton, has 
said: — " A single ode of Klopstock outweighs the whole lyric 
literature of Britain." I know nothing of Klopstock's that 
would outweigh this single Hymn on the Nativity. 

p. 12. But thy messengers, Lord, respect the mild going of thy 
day.'] — " Canst thou send lightnings that they may go, and say 
unto them, Here we are?" — Job. xxxviii. 35. 

" The day is placid in its going, 
To a lingering sweetness bound, 
Like a river in its flowing." — Wordsworth. 

p. 14. A good man in his dark strivings £fc.~] — Drang in this 
passage is untranslatable, though I think the meaning is clear. 
In rendering it as above, I had the striving of jarring impulses 
(Coleridge's Aids) in my mind. The same exalted confidence 
in human nature is expressed in another passage of Goethe's 
works : — 



( 220 ) 



" Wenn einen Menschen die Natur erhobcn, 
1st es kein Wunder, wenn ihm viel gelingt; 
Mann muss in ihm die Maclit des Schiipfers lob en 
Der schwachen Thon zu solcher Ehre bringt : 
Doch wenn ein Mann von alien Lebensproben 
Die sauevste besteht, sich selbst bezwingt; 
Dann kann man ilm rnit Freude Andern zeigen, 
Und sagen: Das ist er, das ist sein eigen." — 

Geheimnisse. 

p. 15. The Scoffer is the least offensive to me.'] — This does 
not convey the character of Mephistopheles, nor am I aware of 
any English word that would. The meaning must be; I prefer 
a malicious, roguish devil who laughs or scoffs at my works, to 
one who openly defies. 

p. 15. The creative essence fyc.~\ — It is quite impossible to 
translate this passage, and I have never seen a satisfactory ex- 
planation of it. Das Werclende is literally The Becoming, but 
xverden is rather the Greek yivopai than the English to become. 
The Greek word tysmo (says Mr. Coleridge) unites in itself 
the two senses of began to exist and was made to exist: it ex- 
emplifies the force of the middle voice, in distinction from the 
verb reflex. — (Aids to Reflection, 2d edit. p. 18.) 

One friend, whom I consulted about this passage, sent me 
the following note : — " Creation's energy — ever active and 
alive — encircle you with the joyous bounds of love — and that 
which flits before you, a fluent and changeful phantom, do ye 
fix by the power of enduring thought!" I back this transla- 
tion against yours ; but then I have picked up a dropped fea- 
ther from the spicy nest of the phcenix, Coleridge: " The par- 
ticles that constitute the size, the visibility of an organic struc- 
ture, are in perpetual flux. They are to the combining and 
constitutive power, as the pulses of air to the voice of a dis- 
course^ or of one who sings a roundelay. The same words 
may be repeated, but in each second of time the articulated air 
hath passed away, and each act of articulation appropriates 



( 221 ) 



and gives momentary form to a new and other portion. As the 
column of blue smoke from a cottage chimney in the breathless 
summer noon — or the steadfast-seeming cloud on the edge- 
point of a hill in the driving air current, which momently con- 
densed and recomposed is the common phantom of a thousand 
successo7's {schxeankende Erscheinung,) such is the flesh (and 
every organised body) which our bodily eyes transmit to us, 
which our Palates taste, which our Hands touch." — Aids fyc. 
p. 392. 

A second interpreted it thus : — " There is clearly no trans- 
lating of these lines, especially on the spur of the moment; yet 
it seems to me the meaning of them is pretty distinct The 
Lord has just remarked, that man (poor fellow) needs a devil, 
as travelling companion, to spur him on by means of Denial; 
thereupon, turning round (to the angels and other perfect cha- 
racters) he adds, 1 But ye, the genuine sons of Heaven, joy ye 
in the living fulness of the beautiful ' (not of the logical, prac- 
tical, contradictory, wherein man toils imprisoned) ; ' let Being 
(or Existence) which is every where a glorious birth into 
higher Being, as it for ever works and lives, encircle you with 
the soft ties of Love ; and whatsoever wavers in the doubtful 
empire of appearance ' (as all earthly things do), ' that do ye 
by enduring thought make firm.' Thus would Das Werdende, 
the thing that is a being (is o-being), mean no less than the 
universe (the visible universe) itself; and I paraphrase it by 
" Existence which is everywhere a birth into higher Exist- 
ence" (or in some such way), and make a comfortable enough 
kind of sense out of that quatrain."* I do not add my dis- 
tinguished friend's name, but the mingled force and quaintness 
of his style would betray him anywhere. 

"A trifle more acquaintance with theology and German philo- 
sophy (says a writer in Fraser) would have saved a deal of the trou- 
ble thus taken ; nor would some attention to the character of the 
speaker and the nature of the occasion have been quite useless. 



* The passage in the original consists of four lines. 



( 222 ) 



The speaker is the second person in the Trinity, and the occasion is 
the breaking up of the sacred assembly, and the words which 
he is made to utter are intended for the Divine benediction at 
parting, in which he formally leaves them, to comfort them for 
his absence, according to the Scripture rule of proceeding, the 
loving influences of the Holy Spirit. The desire to be familiar 
in this dialogue — to make it dramatic rather than sacred — led 
Goethe to avoid religious terms of expression; and therefore 
he preferred the phrase, ' the becoming, that ever operates 
and lives,' to the ' fellowship or blessing of the Holy Ghost,' 
and similar modes of address which are consecrated to the ser- 
vice of public worship. ' The becoming' (das Werdende) is of 
course that which becomes — i. e. that which continually passes 
from one state to another, whose essence it is to do so. This 
is undoubtedly the office of the third person in the Trinity. 
The Lord, therefore, leaves and dismisses the angelic assembly 
with a bendiction, recommending them to that divine influence 
which proceeds from the Father to the Son, and from both in 
an eternal procession, an operative and living principle, to 
whatsoever works and lives. This spirit he desires to remain 
with them, and to encompass them within the gentle enclosures 
of love." — (Frasers Magazine for May, 1832.) 

Should any one think I am bestowing too much space upon a 
single passage, I would beg leave to remind him that the passage 
is a very singular one, and that books have ere now been writ- 
ten to fix the meaning of a phrase. The most eminent men 
in Italy joined in the conti*oversy as to the freddo e caldo polo 
of Monti. 

p. 15. I like to see the Ancient One occasionally.'] — Shelley 
translates den Alten, The Old Fellow. But the term may al- 
lude merely to " The Ancient of Days," and is not necessarily 
a disrespectful one. A correspondent proposes The Old Gentle- 
man. I am also told that derAlte is a slang expression for the 
father. 

In allusion to Mephistopheles' liking to see The Lord occa- 
sionally, Dr. Hinrichs observes: — " A fallen angel, as Shake- 



( 223 ) 



speare himself says, is still an angel, who likes to see the Lord 
occasionally, and avoids breaking with him, wherefore we find 
Mephistopheles in heaven amongst the host." — p. 37. 

The following passage occurs in Falk: — " Yet even the 
clever Madame de Stael was greatly scandalized that I 
(Goethe) kept the devil in such good-humour. In the pre- 
sence of God the Father, she insisted upon it, he ought to be 
more grim and spiteful. What will she say, if she sees him 
promoted a step higher — nay, perhaps, meets him in heaven?" 

p. 17. First Scene in Faust's Study.'] — The opening scene 
in the Study is the only part in which the Faustus of Marlow 
bears any similarity to the Faust of Goethe. I give it, with 
the Chorus, in which an outline of the traditional story is 
sketched : — 

ENTER CHORUS. 

Not marching in the fields of Tharsimen, 

Where Mars did mate the warlike Carthagen ; 

Nor sporting in the dalliance of love, 

In courts of kings, where state is overturn'd; 

Nor in the pomp of proud audacious deeds, 

Intends our muse to vaunt his heavenly verse; 

Only this, gentles, we must now perform, 

The form of Faustus' fortunes, good or bad : 

And now to patient judgments we appeal, 

And speak for Faustus in his infancy ; 

Now is he born of parents base of stock, 

In Germany, within a town call'd Rhodes ; 

At riper years to Wittenburg he went; 

So much he profits in divinity, 

That shortly he was grac'd with Doctor's name, 

Excelling all, and sweetly can dispute 

In th' heavenly matters of theology : 

Till, swoln with cunning and a self-conceit, 

His waxen wings did mount above his reach ; 



( 224 ) 



And melting heavens conspired his overthrow ; 
For falling to a devilish exercise, 
And glutted now with learning's golden gifts, 
He surfeits on the cursed necromancy. 
Nothing so sweet as magic is to him, 
Which he prefers before his chiefest bliss, 
Whereas his kinsman chiefly brought him up. 
And this the man that in his study sits. 



ACT THE FIRST. — SCENE I. 
Faustus in his Study. 

Faust. Settle thy studies, Faustus, and begin, 
To sound the depth of that thou wilt profess ; 
Having commenc'd, be a divine in show, 
Yet level at the end of every art, 
And live and die in Aristotle's works. 
Sweet analytics, 'tis thou hast ravish'd me. 
Bene disserere est fines logocis. 
Is, to dispute well, logic's chiefest end? 
Affords this art no greater miracle? 
Then read no more ; thou hast attain'd that end, 
A greater subject fitteth Faustus' wit: 
Bid economy farewell: and Galen come. 
Be a physician, Faustus ; heap up gold, 
And be eternized for some wondrous cure; 
Summum bonum medicinae sanitas; 
The end of physic is our bodies' health. 
Why, Faustus, has thou not attain'd that end? 
Are not thy bills hung up as monuments, 
Whereby whole cities have escap'd the plague, 
And thousand desperate maladies been cur'd? 
Yet thou art still but Faustus and a man. 
Could'st thou make men to live eternally, 
Or, being dead, raise them to life again, 
Then this profession were to be esteem'd. 



( 225 ) 



Physic, farewell! Where is Justinian? 
Si una eademque res legatur duobus, 
Alter rem, alter valorem rei, &c. 
A petty case of paltry legacies. 
Exhereditari filium non potest pater nisi, &c. 
Such is the subject of the institute, 
And universal body of the law. 
This study fits a mercenary drudge, 
Who aims at nothing but external trash, 
Too servile and illiberal for me. 
When all is done, divinity is best. 

Jerome's bible, Faustus: view it well. 
Stipendium peccati mors est: ha! stipendium, &c. 
The reward of sin is death : that 's hard. 
Si peccasse negamus, fallimur, et nulla est in nobis Veritas 
If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves and ther 

is no truth in us. 
Why then belike we must sin, 
And so consequently die. 
Aye, we must die an everlasting death. 
What doctrine call you this? Che, sera, sera: 
What will be, shall be ; divinity, adieu. 
These metaphysics of magicians, 
And necromantic books are heavenly ! 
Lines, circles, letters, characters: 
Aye, these are those that Faustus most desires. 
Oh! what a world of profit and delight, 
Of power, of honour, and omnipotence, 
Is promised to the studious artisan ! 
All things that move between the quiet pole, 
Shall be at my command. Emperors and kings 
Are but obey'd in their several provinces ; 
But his dominion that exceeds in this, 
Stretches as far as doth the mind of man : 
A sound magician is a demigod. 
Here tire my brains to get a deity. {Enter Wagner.) 

(Mar low's Work's, vol. ii.) 

Q 



( 226 ) 



The commencement of Lord Byron's Manfred, if nothing 
more, is clearly traceable to Faust, either Marlow's or 
Goethe's. His own and Goethe's opinions on this matter may 
be collected from the following extracts, which form part of a 
note to the last edition of Byron's Works, vol. ii. p. 71. 

In June, 1820, Lord Byron thus writes to Mr. Murray: — 
" Enclosed is something will interest you; to wit, the opinion of 
the greatest man in German}'-, perhaps in Europe, upon one of 
the great men of your advertisements (all famous hands as Jacob 
Tonson used to say of his ragamuffins), in short, a critique of 
Goethe's upon Manfred. There is the original, an English trans- 
lation, and an Italian one; — keep them all in your archives, for 
the opinions of such a man as Goethe, whether favourable or 
not, are always interesting, and this more so, as favourable. His 
Faust I never read, for I don't know German; but Matthew 
Monk Lewis, in 1816, at Coligny, translated most of it to me, 
viva voce, and I was naturally much struck with it; but it 
was the Steinbach, and the Jungfrau, and something else 
much more than Faustus, that made me write Manfred. The 
first scene, however, and that of Faustus are very similar." 
The following is part of the extract from Goethe's Kunst und 
Altherthum, which the above letter enclosed: — 

" Byron's tragedy, Manfred, was to me a wonderful pheno- 
menon, and one that closely touched me.* This singularly in- 
tellectual poet has taken my Faustus to himself, and extracted 
.from it the strongest nourishment for his hypochondriac hu- 
mour. He has made use of the impelling principles in his 
own way, for his own purposes, so that no one of them remains 
the same ; and it is particularly on this account that I cannot 
enough admire his genius. The whole is in this way so com- 
pletely formed anew, that it would be an interesting task for 
the critic to point out, not only the alterations he has made, 
but their degree of resemblance with, or dissimilarity to, the 

* There is a translation of one of Manfred's soliloquies by Goethe 
in the last complete edition of his Works, vol. iii. p. 207. 



( 227 ) 



original; in the course of which I cannot deny that the 
gloomy heat of an unbounded and exuberant despair, becomes 
at last oppressive to us. Yet is the dissatisfaction we feel al- 
ways connected with esteem and admiration." 

The present Lord Advocate (Mr. Jeffrey) thus distinguishes 
Marlowe's hero from Manfred: — 

" Faustus is a vulgar sorcerer, tempted to sell his soul to the 
Devil for the ordinary price of sensual pleasure, and earthly 
power and glory; and who shrinks and shudders in agony 
when the forfeit comes to be exacted. The style, too, of Mar- 
low, though elegant and scholarlike, is weak and childish com- 
pared with the depth and force of much of Lord Byron, and 
the disgusting buffoonery of low farce, of which the piece is prin- 
cipally made up, place it more in contrast, than in any terms 
of comparison, with that of his noble successor. In the tone 
and pitch of the composition, as well as in the character of the 
diction in the more solemn parts, Manfred reminds us more of 
the Prometheus of iEschylus than of any more modern per- 
formance." 

The following extracts from Captain Medwin's Conversations 
may also be placed here with propriety : — 

. "The Germans," said Byron, " and I believe Goethe himself, 
consider that I have taken great liberties with ' Faust.' All I 
know of that drama is from a sorry French translation, from 
an occasional reading or two into English of parts of it by 
Monk Lewis, when at Diodata, and from the Hartz-mountain 
scene that Shelley versified from the other day. Nothing I 
envy him so much as to be able to read that astonishing pro- 
duction in the original. As to originality, Goethe has too 
much sense to pretend that he is not under obligations to au- 
thors ancient and modern ; who is not ? You tell me the plot 
is almost entirely Calderon's. The Fete, the Scholar, the ar- 
gument about the Logos, the selling himself to the fiend, and 
afterwards denying his power ; his disguise of the plumed ca- 
valier, the enchanted mirror, are all from Cyprian. That una- 
gico prodigioso must be worth reading, and nobody seems to 

Q 2 



( 228 ) 



know any thing about it but you and Shelley.* Then the 
vision is not unlike that of Marlow's in his ' Faustus.' The 
hed-scene is from ' Cymbeline;' the song or serenade, a trans- 
lation of Ophelia's in 1 Hamlet;' and more than all, the pro- 
logue is from Job, which is the first drama in the world, and 
perhaps the oldest poem. I had an idea of writing a ' Job,' 
but 1 found it too sublime. There is no poetry to be compared 
with it." 

" I told him that Japhet's soliloquy in ' Heaven and Earth,' 
and address to the Mountains of Caucasus, strongly resembled 
Faust's. 

" I shall have commentators enough by and by," said he, 
" to dissect my thoughts, and find owners for them." — (Med- 
iums Conversations of Lord Byron, pp. 141, 142.) 

Again : "I have a great curiosity about every thing relating to 
Goethe, and please myself with thinking there is some analogy 
between our characters and writings. So much interest do I 
take in him, that I offered to give £100 to any person who 
would translate his ' Memoirs' for my own reading. Shelley 
has sometimes explained part of them to me. He seems to be 
very superstitious, and is a believer in astrology, — or rather 
was, for he was very young when he wrote the first part of his 
life. I would give the world to read ' Faust' in the original 
I have been urging Shelley to translate it, but he said that the 

* The trifling analogy that really does exist between the works is 
mentioned in almost all the Commentaries. As I hold it to be quite 
impossible for Shelley to have said that Goethe's plot is almost 
entirely Calderon's, I suspect Captain Medwin (who appears to 
have had a somewhat defective memory) must have been enlarging 
to Byron on what Shelley had incidentally mentioned as coinci- 
dences. To set the question at rest, I have subjoined an abstract 
of Calderon's play (post, in Appendix, No. 2), which clearly proves 
that Captain Medwin strongly resembles Captain Fluellen in some 
respects. — There is a river in Macedon, and there is a river in Mon- 
mouth ; there is a fete in II Magico Prodigioso, and there is a fete 
in Faust. 



( 229. ) 



translator of ' Wallenstein' was the only person living who could 
venture to attempt it; that he had written to Coleridge, but in 
vain. For a man to translate it he must think as he does." 
"How do you explain," said I, "the first line, 

'The sun thunders through the sky?' 

" He speaks of the music of the spheres in Heaven," said 
he, "where, as in Job, the first scene is laid." — (Medium's 
Conversations, p. 267.) 

I need hardly say that Goethe was never guilty of such a 
piece of bombast as that which Captain Medwin has fixed upon 
him. 

Tieck, towards the end of his masterly Introduction to Lenz's 
Works, discountenances the notion that either Byron or Scott 
was under any literary obligation to Goethe. This notion, as 
regards Scott, is in part supported by reference to individual 
characters or passages in his works, (as Finella copied from 
Mignon, or the interview between Leicester and Amy, at 
Cumnor, imitated from Egmont,) but principally by suppos- 
ing that the translation of Gotz von Berlichingen first in- 
spired him with a taste for that style of writing in which he 
afterwards so pre-eminently distinguished himself.* Unluckily 
for this theory, it is now well known that he had this taste al- 
ready;! and even without any direct evidence upon the point, 
I should rather infer that the taste originated the translation, 
than the translation the taste. 

p. 17. This it is that is burning up the heart within me.'] — 
" Abel, my brother, I would lament for thee, but that the spirit 
within me is withered and burnt up with extreme agony." — 
(The Wanderings of Cain, a Fragment, by S. T. Coleridge.) 

* Mr. Carlyle (Specimens of German Romance, vol. iv. p. 6,) 
starts this supposition. 

t See the Annotated Edition of the Waverley Novels, vol. L 
General Preface. 



( 230 ) 



p. 17. But for this very reason is all joy torn from me.] — " I 
communed with my own heart, saying, Lo, I am come to great 
estate, and have gotten more wisdom than all they that have 
been before me in Jerusalem. Yea, my heart had great expe- 
rience of wisdom and knowledge. 

" And I gave my heart to know wisdom, and to know mad- 
ness and folly. I perceive also that this also is vexation of 
spirit. For in much wisdom is much grief, and he that in- 
creaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow." — (Eccl. c. i.) 

p. 18. I have therefore devoted myself to magic. .] — Goethe 
tells us, in his Memoirs, that whilst confined by ill-health, he 
and Miss von Klettenberg read through several books on al- 
chymy ; e. g. Welling's Opus Mago-Cabalisticum, Theophrastus 
Paracelsus, Basilius Valentinus, Helmont, Starkey, and the 
Aurea Catena Homeri.* The study of these writers subse- 
quently induced Goethe to put up a small chymical appara- 
tus, of which he says; " now were certain ingredients of the 
Macrocosmus and Microcosmus dealt with after a strange 
fashion." In his Farbenlehre, also, he enters upon an ani- 
mated defence of natural magic. It is clear from many pas- 
sages in his Memoirs, that the reflections on the insufficiency 
of knowledge which he has here put into the mouth of Faust, 
were his own at one period of his life, though he subsequently 
attained to a better estimate of it. For instance : — " The re- 
markable puppet-show fable of Faust, found many an answer- 
ing echo in my breast. I too had ranged through the whole 
round of knowledge, and was early enough led to see its 
vanity." 

p. 1 9. Nostradamus.'} — The following account of this worthy 
is given in the Conversations-Lexicon : — " Nostradamus, pro- 
perly Michel Notre Dame, born in 1503, at St. Remy in Pro- 
vence, of a family of Jewish origin, studied medicine, applied 

* Dbring (Life of Goethe, p. 72) mentions the circumstance and 
connects it with Faust. 



( 231 ) 



himself somewhat to quackery, and fell at last into the favourite 
malady of his age, astrology. The prophecies which, from his 
seclusion at Salon, he made known in rhymed quatrains under 
the title of ' Centuries of the World,' excited great notice by 
their style and their obscurity. Henry the Second, King of 
France, sent for the author and rewarded him royally. When, 
subsequently, this monarch was wounded in a tournament, 
and lost his life, men believed that the prophecy of this event 
was to be found in the 35th quatrain of the First Century : — 

4 Le lion jeune le vieux surmontera, 
En camps bellique par singulier duel, 
Dans cage d'or les yeux lui crevera, 
Deux plaies une, puis mourir mort cruelle.' 

The most distinguished persons of his time visited him at 
Salon. Charles the Ninth appointed him his physician. 
There were not wanting people, however, who made light of 
his prophecies. So late as 1781, they were prohibited by the 
Papal Court, because the downfal of Papacy was announced 
in them. He died at Salon in 1565." — (Conversations- Lexicon, 
Tit. Nostradamus.) 

pp. 19 and 20. Macrocosm, and Spirit of the Earth or Mi- 
crocosm.'] — Dr. Hinrichs says: — " The Macrocosm signifies 
Nature, as such, and is opposed to Microcosm, as man." — p. 
59. But I incline to think Macrocosm means the Universe, 
and the Spirit of Earth, the Earth generally. Thus Falk, in 
accounting for Faust's weakness in the presence of the latter, 
says, " The mighty and maniform universality of the earth 
itself — that focus of all phenomena, which at the same time 
contains within itself sea, mountain, storm, earthquake, tiger, 
lion, lamb, Homer, Phidias, Raphael, Newton, Mozart, and 
Apelles — whom, appear when and where it might, would it 
not strike with trembling, fear, and awe?" — p. 247. The 
Ganzen (I am here adopting the gloss of a friend) is the Om~ 
neity of the metaphysicians, and Eins in dem Andern wirkt 
und lebt, is The Immanence of All in each of Plato. 



( 232 ) 



But the best commentary on the whole of the passage in 
which these words occur, is to be found in the first chapter of 
Herder's Ideen, who (according to Falk) received many of his 
notions from Goethe. The analogy of the following passage is 
sufficiently marked: — " When, therefore, I open the great 
book of Heaven, and see before me this measureless pal?ce, 
which alone, and every where, the Godhead only has power to 
fill, I conclude, as undistractedly as I can, from the whole to 
the particular, from the particular to the whole." — (Ideen, b. i. 
c. 1.) 

The Spirits' chaunt probably suggested Shelley's — 

" Nature's vast frame — the web of human things? 
Birth and the grave!" 

In Dodsley's Collection of Old Plays (vol. v.) is " A Moral 
Mask," entitled " Microcosm," by Thomas Nabbs, in which 
Nature, Earth, Fire, Water, &c. &c. figure as dramatis 
persona?. 

I subjoin a part of the commentary on this passage, which 
appeared in the before-mentioned article in Fraser's Maga- 
zine : — 

" According to Paracelsus, then, the macrocosm is the great 
world, and man is the microcosm, or a little world — a kind of 
epitome of the great. Oswald Crollius, ' physician to the most 
illustrious prince Christian Anhaltin,' in his admonitory preface 
to Paracelsus's Three Books of Philosophy, delivers himself 
right learnedly on both worlds, macros and micros. ' Whatso- 
ever,' says he, £ lieth hid and unseen in man, is made manifest 
in the visible anatomy of the whole universe; for the micro- 
cosmical nature in man is invisible and incomprehensible. 
Therefore, in the visible and comprehensible anatomy of the 
great world, all things are manifest, as in their parent. 
Heaven and earth are man's parents, out of which man last 
of all was created ; he that knows the parents, and can anato- 
mise them, hath attained the true knowledge of their child, 
man, the most perfect creature in all his properties; because 



( 233 ) 



all things of the whole universe meet in him as in the centre, 
and the anatomy of him in his nature is the anatomy of 
the whole world. The external world is the figure of 
man, and man is an hidden world ; because visible things in 
him are invisible, and when they are made visible, then they 
are diseases, not health, as truly as he is the little world, and 
not the great one, And tins is the true knowledge, that man 
may microcosmically be known, visibly and invisibly, or magi- 
cally. The knowledge of every sound and perfect physician 
proceedeth from the true and full anatomy, both of the great 
and little world, unto which he may safely trust, as to a most 
sure anchor. Considering, then, the original of all diseases, it 
will appear that the nature, as well of the macrocosm as of the 
microcosm, is its own medicine, disease, and physician.' 

" Such is the sort of stuff to which this scene of Goethe has 
reference. In the sign of the macrocosm, Faust contemplates 
' the visible anatomy of the whole universe.' 

" To this contemplation Faust feels himself unequal — its 
sphere is too large for his faculties ; he is therefore desirous of 
limiting his aspirations, and, turning over the leaf, is fain to 
put up with the Spirit of the Earth, as ' nearer to him' — as a 
more possible subject for his intellectual grasp. But, alas ! 
even this less infinite spirit is too much — too overwhelming. 

" Yet was that vision, as we have demonstrated, of himself. 
What greater proof need we of the Miltonic axiom, placed 
in the mouth of the very first Faust too, Adam himself? 
' We feel that we are greater than we know,' or can bear to 
know. For this revelation of a man to himself, what is it? 
To what is the majestic vision correlated ? Our Oswald Crol- 
lius shall answer all gainsayers in respect to the microcosm, 
' or little world, man, concerning whose generation, dignity, 
and excellence,' he says 4 something,' and that something, 
much every way ; but this in brief : the microcosm man is the 
quintessence of all things — the divinity on earth — and his spirit 
is none other than God himself. ' As the sidereal spirit dwells 
in the body, and works therein day and night — for this invisible 
is himself the firmament, and hath all things in him ; so the 



( 234 ) 



Spirit of the Lord, the V/ ord of God, the eternal man, dwells 
in the soul: the house is the habitation of the soul, the soul is 
the habitation and cottage of God. Therefore when man, the 
most perfect completeness of God's works, the most complete 
figure of the world, and express image of God, in whom he 
rested from creating, as having nothing before him more 
honourable to be created, all the wisdom and power of the 
Creator being shut up and perfected in him, as the supreme 
artifice, in that he containeth all things in himself that are in 
God, when (I say) he was on the sixth day made up of all 
things, the last of the creatures, and image not only of the 
eternal God, but also of the great world, because with it he 
comprehendeth and containeth all things in himself: it fol- 
loweth that there are three worlds or heavens in man, and that 
he is borne about of three worlds, or rather is all the world, and 
a most sure and undoubted pattern of the whole universe. And 
therefore some have called him the fourth world, in whom are 
found all those tilings that are in the other three ; for which 
cause, also, he may be called by the name of every creature. 
He hath a spirit or mind from God ; for what else is the spirit 
of man, which God breathed into him, but God himself dwelling 
in us ? The invisible body, or true internal man, consisting of 
reason and an astral spirit, agreeth with the angels and is their 

fellow; AND IF HE BE A TRUE MAGICIAN, HE IS NOT INFERIOR 
TO THE ANGELS IN ALL MAGICAL OPERATIONS, and is lord and 

possessor of all things. His mortal physical body he hath from 
the frame of the world and all things created therein ; for all 
external things are nothing else but the body of man. So that 
he partaketh of a threefold world, — of the archetype, or godlike 
world in God — of the intelligible, or angelical — of the sensible, 
elemental, or corporeal world ; and hath a symbolical operation 
and conversation with them all.' 

" The projected revelation of a spirit like this — thus adum- 
brating symbolically the creation and the Creator — what wonder 
that Faust should call the vision so gigantically great, and fail 
to recognise himself therein, exceeding as it did all conception? 
And what man can conceive of his own spirit ; for that which 



( 235 ) 



comprehends all he knows, how can it be comprehended? 
Containing all consciousness, it can only be self-contained, and 
not included in consciousness, which reveals it by parts only, 
and, save in successive parts, never as a whole. It can indeed 
affirm its own being in its identity and integrity; but in so 
doing it passes the limits of consciousness, and obtains a self- 
intuition, of which the source and manifesting power must be 
sought in a still higher region. Seek it, and it appears, as it 
did to Faust, and to Moses, in fire — an unconsuming fire, yet 
terrible, and smiting the visionary with a sense of his own finite 
and derivative existence into the stature of a dwarf." 

The whole article is well worth studying, if I, who am 
praised in it, may be allowed to say so. 

p. 20. Up, acolyte /] — I have been called on for an autho- 
rity for using this word in the above sense : — 

" You are doubtless an acolyte in the noble and joyous 
science of minstrelsy and music." — {Anne of Geierstein, vol. ii. 
p. 238.) 

p. 20. A cold shuddering 4fc.] — 

" Fear came upon me, and trembling, which made all my 
bones to shake. 

" Then a spirit passed before my face : the hair of my flesh 
stood up." — ( The Book of Job, ch. iv.) 

p. 21. Art thou he? — 

" Reluctant mortal, 
Is this the Magian who would so pervade 
The world invisible, and make himself 
Almost our equal?" 

(Manfred, act 3, sc. 4.) 

p. 23. Enter Wagner.] — The traditional Faust had a disciple 
or pupil named Wagner or Wagenar, who figures in all the 
dramas or histories founded on the fable. He is thus described 



( 236 ) 



in Cayet's Translation of Widman: " Le Docteur Fauste avoit 
un jenne serviteur qu'il avoit eleve quand il etudioit a Witten- 
berg, que vit toutes les illusions de son maitre Fauste, toutes ses 
magies et tout son art diabolique. II etoit un mauvais garcon, 
coureur et debauche du commencement qu'il vint demeurer a 
Wittenberg : il mendoit, et personne ne le vouloit prendre a 
cause de sa mauvaise nature ; le garcon se nommoit Christofle 
Wagner, et fut des-lors serviteur du Dr. Fauste ; il se tint tres 
bien avec lui, en sorte que le Dr. Fauste l'appeloit son fils : il 
alloit ou il vouloit, quoiqu'il allat tout boitant et de travers." 
A book entitled " Christoph. Wagner's Magic Arts and Life of 
Dr. Faust," was published at Berlin, in 1714, assuming to be 
by the veritable attendant of the philosopher. 

Dr. Hinrichs has a strange theory about this character. In 
his opinion, Faust represents Philosophy, and Wagner, Empi- 
ricism; Philosophy being Germany, and Empiricism all the 
rest of the world. In weighing this compliment to foreigners, 
it will be born in mind that Empiriker, in German philosophy, 
means something very different from quack. It is commonly 
used in the sense of experimentalist. 

It is also worthy of remark that one of Goethe's early friends 
was called Wagner. He signalized himself by stealing from 
Faust (which was communicated to him in confidence pre- 
viously to publication), the tragic portion relating to Margaret, 
and making it the subject of a tragedy, called the Infanticide. 
Goethe expresses great indignation at the treachery. — (Me- 
moirs, B. 14.) 

p. 24. But it is elocution # c -]~ Wagner, a man of learning, 
was probably alluding to the well-known anecdote of Demos- 
thenes. Vortrag comes near the Greek tnUfia-iq, which includes 
not action merely, but all that relates to the delivery of a 
speech. 

p. 24. In which ye crisp the shavings of humanity.] — The 
phrase knitzel krauseln is one about which great variety of 
opinion exists, but the two highest authorities substantially 
agree ; — 



( 237 ) 



" Vos discours qui brillent d'un si faux eclat, dans lequel 
vous etalez les ornemens les plus factices de l'esprit humain,. 
&c. Krauseln, rendre crepu, friser. Schnitzel, ce sont des 
decoupures de papier. En les tordant en differens sens on 
peut en faire des ornemens, meme des fleurs, mais ces fleurs 
n'ont aucune fraicheur. Le poete les compare done avec les 
ornemens d'une rhetorique affectee, Une des beautes de ce 
passage e'est la singularite de la rime krauseln et savseln, 
laquelie a son tour aura amene les expressions un peu bizarres 
du second vers." — (M. de Schlegel — private letter.) 

" Your fine speeches, in which you ruffle up man's poorest 
shreds (in which you repeat the most miserable trifles in can- 
dyed language,) are comfortless," &c. — (Dr. Jacob Grimm — 
private letter.) The analogy between this passage and the si 
vis me fiere SfC. of Horace, will suggest itself to every one. 

p. 25. My friend, past ages are to us a book with seven seals, 
4'c-] — This speech also is one of considerable difficulty. Good 
critics are not wanting who contend that der Herren eigner 
Geist means the spirit of certain great persons or lords of the 
earth exercising a wide-spread influence on their times, and 
that eine Haupt-und Staats-Action means a grand political in- 
trigue. But I have it on indisputable authority, that Huupt- 
und Staats-action was the name given to a description of drama 
formerly well-known in Germany. Dr. Grimm's note upon 
this passage is : " Ein Kehricht-fass, &c. a dust-vat (dirt- 
basket) and a lumber-room, and at best a historico-pragmatical 
play, with excellent moral maxims, as they are fit for a puppet- 
show." M. de Schlegel says: Haupt-und Stoats- Action: C'est 
le titre qu'on affichait pour les drames destines aux marionnettes, 
lorsqu'ils traitaient des sujets heroiques et historiques." 

p. 25. Who dares give the child its true name?~] — " II faut 
avoir une pensee de derriere et juger de tout par la, en parlant 
cependant comme le peuple." — Pascal. 



( 238 ) 



p. 27. Something foreign, and more foreign, is ever clinging 
to the noblest conception, $$c] — 

" But must needs confess 

That 'tis a thing impossible to frame 
Conceptions equal to the soul's desires; 
And the most difficult of tasks to keep 
Heights which the soul is competent to gain. 
— Man is of dust ; ethereal hopes are his, 
Which, when they should sustain themselves aloft, • 
Want due consistence, like a pillar of smoke, 
That with majestic energy from earth 
Rises, but, having reached the thinner air, 
Melts, and dissolves, and is no longer seen." — 

W ordsworth. — Excursion. 

p. 27. The glorious feelings which gave us life, fyc] — No 
one who has ever indulged in day-dreaming or felt the beau 
ideal of fancy crumble away before the ugly real of life — no 
one, in short, who is not a mere irockne Schleicher like 
Wagner, will require any illustration of this paragraph. The 
same sentiment, very beautifully expressed, will be found in 
Schiller's Poem, Die Ideate, elegantly translated by Lord F. L. 
Gower. Goethe, also, observes in his Memoirs : " Ordinarily, 
when our soul-concert is most spiritually attuned, the harsh 
grating tones of the world strike in, in the most overpowering 
and boisterous manner, and the contrast which is ever secretly 
going on, suddenly coming forth, only influences the more sen- 
sibly on that account." He highly commends Wieland for his 
skill in representing this contrast. 

p. 28. Thou hollow skull, what meanst thou by that grin? — ] 
" Death grins! Go, ponder o'er the skeleton!" — Byron. 

p. 29. As when the moonlight breathes.'] — 

" How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon that bank." 

Merchant of Venice. 

This line, and Lear's — 

" Pray you, undo this button — thank you, Sir;" 



( 239 ) 



have been cited by Leigh Hunt as alone sufficient to place 
Shakspeare in the first rank of poetry. 

p. 30. The gorgeousness of the many artfully-wrought images, 
&c] — " I remember seeing a beautiful silver goblet of the kind 
— i. e. one contrived for the trial of a guest's powers of breath 
and drinking — at Berne in Switzerland, for sale, alas, second- 
hand, in an old shop. It was so contrived, that the wine 
flowed down a channel into the main reservoir, and in its 
course turned a mill, on the sweeps of which the drinker's eye 
would be directed, if in their natural position, during the pull 
(zug.)" — (Note by a friend.) I need do no more than name 
the Blessed Bear of Bradwardine. 

p. 32. A longing inconceivably sweet Sec.'] — 
" While yet a boy I sought for ghosts, and sped 
Through many a listening chamber, cave and ruin, 
And star-light wood, with fearful steps pursuing 
Hopes of high talk with the departed dead." 

Shelley — Hymn to Intellectual Beauty. 

Compare the splendid passage in Tintern Abbey, beginning — 

" Though changed, no doubt, from what I was when first 
I came amongst these hills," &c. 

p. 33. For you is he here /] — With you has been suggested 
in allusion to St. Chrysostom's prayer, " There am I among 
you." 

p. 36. The painted vessels.'] — 

" The painted vessels glide." — Dry den. 

The allusion to the war in Turkey, and the other townman's 
reply, are supposed by one of the commentators to be a sneer 
at the indifference manifested as to the war of Grecian inde- 
pendence. I am afraid this ingenious writer forgot that the 
first part of the poem was written half a century ago. 



p. 36. Behind, far away, in Turkey.] — The common people 



( 240 ) 



in Germany are wont to consider themselves as placed forward 
in the world, and speak of all distant or outlandish countries as 
behind. 

p. 37. Saint Andrew's eve, £>c.~] — " There is a belief that on 
St. Andrew's eve, St. Thomas's eve, Christmas eve, and New 
Year's eve, a maiden may invite and see her future lover. A 
table must be covered for two, but without forks. Whatever 
the lover leaves behind him, on going away, must be carefully 
picked up; he then attaches himself to her who possesses it, 
and loves her ardently. But he should never be allowed to 
come to the sight of it again, or he will think of the pain he 
endured on that night by supernatural means, and becomes 
aware of the charm, whereby great unhappiness is occasioned. 
A beautiful maiden in Austria once sought to see her lover ac- 
cording to the necessary forms, whereupon a shoemaker entered 
with a dagger, threw it to her, and immediately disappeared 
again. She took up the dagger and locked it away in a chest. 
Soon afterwards came the shoemaker and sought her in mar- 
riage. Some years after their marriage, she went one Sunday 
after vespers to her chest to look out something which she 
wanted for her next day's work. As she opened the chest, her 
husband came to her and insisted on looking in ; she held him 
back, but he pushed her aside, looked into the chest, and saw 
his lost dagger. He instantly seizes it, and requires to know, 
in a word, how she got it, as he had lost it at a peculiar time. 
In her confusion she is unable to think of an excuse, and freely 
owns that it is the same dagger which he had left behind on 
that night when she required to see him. Upon this he grew 
furious, and exclaimed, with a fearful oath: ' Whore! then 
thou art the girl, who tortured me so inhumanly that night ! ' 
And with that he struck the dagger right through her heart." 

" The like is related in various places of others. Orally, of 
a huntsman, who left his hanger. During her first confinement 
the wife sent him to her chest to fetch clean linen, forgetting 
that the charmed instrument was there, which he finds and kills 
her with it." — Deutsche Sagen. Herausgegeben von den Brii- 



( 241 ) 



dern Grimm. Berlin, 1816, No. 114. The same work (No. 
118) contains a story founded on the superstition of the magic 
mirror (alluded to in the next line but one), in which absent 
friends or lovers may be seen. This superstition, however, is 
not peculiar to Germany. Sir Walter Scott has written a story 
founded upon it, which was published in The Keepsake a year 
or two back. 

p. 38. River and rivulet, Sfc.~] — To understand Faust's posi- 
tion in this speech, the reader must fancy a town on a river, 
like most of those upon the Rhine, with a sort of suburban 
village on the opposite bank. Falk makes this scene the 
groundwork of a commentary on the advantages of the Sab- 
bath ; a fair specimen of the mode in which most of the com- 
mentaries on Faust are eked out. 

p. 43. There was a red lion, fyc.~y — Mr. T. Griffiths, of 
Kensington, who once delivered an extremely interesting 
lecture on Alchymical Signs at the Royal Institution, enables 
me to furnish an explanation of this passage, which has 
generally been passed over as (what M. Sainte-Aulaire is 
pleased to term it) galimatias. The fact is, Goethe was too 
finished an artist to leave any incorrectness of any sort that he 
could avoid ; and I believe no man had a greater contempt for 
that school of poetasters, who are eternally appealing to what 
they call poetical license in justification of nonsense. Whether 
the technical terms of an exploded art should be used at all, is 
another question. I only say that, if used, they should be used 
properly. 

There was a red lion. — This expression implies the red stone, 
red mercury, or cinnabar. 

A bold lover. — This expression alludes to the property the 
above compound possessed (according to the adepts) of de- 
vouring, swallowing, or ravishing every pure metallic nature or 
body. 

married. — This simply implies the conjoining or union of 

R 



( 242 ) 



two bodies of opposite natures ; red and white were supposed 
to be male and female. 

to the lily. — This term denotes a preparation of antimony, 
called lilium minerale, or lilium paracelsi ; the white stone, or 
perhaps albified mercury, sometimes called the " white fume," 
or the " most milk-white swanne." 

— in the tepid bath. — This denotes a vessel filled with heated 
water, or a " balneum maria?," used as a very convenient 
means of elevating the body of an aludel or alembic slowly to 
a gentle heat. 

— and then with open flame. — This means the direct and 
fierce application of fire to the aludel upon its removal from the 
water bath, after the marriage had taken place betwixt the 
" red and the white.'' 

— tortured. — The adepts deemed their compounds sensible 
of pleasure and pain ; the heat of the open fire tortured the 
newly united bodies ; these therefore endeavoured to escape, or 
sublime, which is the sense in which the word tortured is to be 
taken. 

— -from one bridal chamber. — This means the body of the 
aludel, in which they were first placed, and which had been 
heated to such a degree as to cause their sublimation. 

— to another — This signifies the glass head or capital placed 
on the body of the aludel, which received the sublimed vapours. 
Many heads were put on in succession, into which the vapours 
successively passed. 

If 'the young queen. — This implies the supposed royal offspring 
of the red lion and the lily, or its alliance to the noble metals 
— the sublimer products. 

— with varied hues then appeared. — During the process, va- 
rious hues appeared on the sublimed compound; according to 
the order of their appearance, the perfection or completion of 
the great work was judged of. Purple and ruby were most 
esteemed, for being royal colours they were good omens. 

in the glass. — This means the glass head or capital of the 
aludel, as before noticed. 

this was the medicine. — The term medicine was used to ex- 



( 243 ) 



press, both the elixir to heal human bodies, and that to trans- 
mute the bodies of metals into the purest gold and silver. 

The passage divested of alchymical obscurity would read 
thus : — 

" There was red mercury, a powerfully acting body, united 
with the tincture of antimony, at a gentle heat of the water- 
bath. Then being exposed to the heat of the open fire in an 
aludel, a sublimate filled its heads in succession, which, if it 
appeared with various hues, was the desired medicine." 

In a note to me, Mr. Griffiths adds : — " All the terms it 
contains may be found in alchymical works ; it is a very good 
specimen of mystical writing." 

p. 44. See how the green-girt cottages shimmer."] — Those who 
do not like or do not understand shimmer may put glisten in 
the place of it; but I am satisfied that I am true to my text 
(shimmern), and John Philip Kemble himself was not more 
ready to go to the stake for his aches than I for my shimmer. 
But I shall hardly be called upon to do this, for the word is 
recognized by Todd and Jameson, and must be familiar to all 
readers of old Scotch or English poetry : 

" No shimmering sun here ever shone, 
No wholesome breeze here ever blew." 

I have to thank my friend Mr. Allan Cunningham for this 
example. He also tells me that it is sometimes written 
skimmer. 

Since the publication of my first edition, an anonymous cor- 
respondent has referred me to the " Lay of the Last Minstrel:" 

" Skimmers through mist each planet star." 

(Scott's Poetical Works, vol. vi. p. 60, last Edition.) 

p. 44. Every height onfire.~\ — 

" Cover a hundred leagues and seem 
To set the hills on fire." — Wordsworth. 
r 2 



( 2U ) 



<( The western wave was all a-flame, 
The day was well nigh done ! 
Almost upon the western wave, 

Rested the broad bright sun." — Coleridge. 

I believe most of my friends will thank me for enabling them 
to compare the emotions produced by sunrise in Wordsworth, 
with those produced by sunset in Faust : 

" What soul was his, when, from the naked top 
Of some bold headland, he beheld the sun 
Rise up, and bathe the world in light ! He looked — 
Ocean and earth, the solid frame of earth 
And ocean's liquid mass, beneath him lay 
In gladness and deep joy. The clouds were touched, 
And in their silent faces did he read 
Unutterable love. Sound needed none, 
Nor any voice of joy; his spirit drank 
The spectacle : sensation, soul, and form 
All melted into him ; they swallowed up 
His animal being; in them did he live, 
And by them did he live; they were his life. 
In such access of mind, in such high hour 
Of visitation from the living God, 
Thought was not; in enjoyment it expired. 
No thanks he breathed, he preferred no request; 
Rapt into still communion that transcends 
The imperfect offices of prayer and praise, 
His mind was a thanksgiving to the power 
That made him; it was blessedness and love!" 

Excursion, B. i. 

p. 44. The day before me and the night behind.~\ — This fine 
expression occurs in a very old and popular tale of witchcraft 
mentioned at some length by Voss. 



( 245 ) 



p. 44. Alas! no bodily wing £$c.~] — 

" Oft when my spirit doth spread her bolder wings, 
In mind to mount up to the purer sky, 
It down is weighed with thought of earthly things, 
And clogged with burden of mortality." 

Spenser' 's Sonnets. 

p. 45, The realms of an exalted ancestry. ~] — This alludes to 
a supposed divine origin of the soul or spirit of man, or to — 
" For I am in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to depart 
and to be with Christ, which is better." — Phil. i. It was the 
suggestion of an able critic, that Ahnen might be the verb sub- 
stantived, in which case it would mean of high aspirings or 
presentiments, but a word thus formed would have no plural, 
and the genitive singular would be Ahnens. An anonymous 
commentator quotes the following lines apropos of the main 
sentiment in this speech : — 

" Und was die Menschen meinen, 
Das ist mir einerlei, 
Mbchte mich mir selbst vereinen 
Allein wir sind zu zwei ; 

" Und im lebend'gen Treiben 
Sind wir ein Hier und Dort, 
Das eine liebt zu bleiben 
Das andre mochte fort." 

I do not know whose they are. 

p. 45. Invoke not the well-known troop, which diffuses itself, 
streaming, through the atmosphere, 8fc.~] — " The spirits of the 
aire will mix themselves with thunder and lightning, and so 
infest the clyme where they raise any tempest, that soudainely 
great mortality shall ensue to the inhabitants." — (Pierce Pen- 
nilesse his Supplication, 1592: cited in Steeven's Shakspeare.) 
" The air is not so full of flies in summer, as it is at all times 
of invisible devils; this Paracelsus stiffly maintains." — (Bur- 
ton, Anat. part i.) And see post, 248. 



( 246 ) 



p. 47. A line of fire follows vpon his track.'] — In his work 
on Colours already alluded to, Goethe gives the following ex- 
planation of this phenomenon : — " A dark object, the moment 
it withdraws itself, imposes on the eye the necessity of seeing 
the same form bright. Between jest and earnest, I shall quote 
a passage from Faust which is applicable here. (Then follows 
the passage.) This had been written sometime, — from poetical 
intuition and in half consciousness, — when, as it was growing 
twilight, a black poodle ran by my window in the street, and 
drew a clear, shining appearance after him, — the undefined 
image of his passing form remaining in the eye. Such pheno- 
mena occasion the more pleasing surprise, as they present 
themselves most vividly and beautifully, precisely when we 
suffer our eyes to wander unconsciously. There is no one to 
whom such counterfeit images have not often appeared, but 
they are allowed to pass unnoticed; yet I have known persons 
who teased themselves on this account, and believed it to be a 
symptom of the diseased state of their eyes, whereupon the 
explanation which I had it in my power to give inspired them 
with the highest satisfaction. He who is instructed as to the 
real nature of it, remarks the phenomenon more frequently, 
because the reflexion immediately suggests itself. Schiller 
wished many a time that this theory had never been communi- 
cated to him, because he was every where catching glimpses of 
that the necessity for which was known to him." The pheno- 
menon is now, at any rate, a recognised and familiar one. See 
Sir David Brewster s Letters on Natural Magic, p. 20. 

In a note to the following lines in the Lay of the Last 
Minstrel, there is a strange story of a fiend appearing in the 
shape of a black dog : — 

" For he was speechless, ghastly, wan, 
Like him of whom the story ran, 
He spoke the spectre-hound in Man." — Canto 6. 

According to the tradition, Faust was constantly attended 
by an evil spirit in the shape of a black dog. This four- 



( 247 ) 



footed follower has a place in most of the old pictures, those in 
Auerbach's cellar not excepted. 

p. 48. Even a wise man may become attached to a dog when 
he is well brought up.~\~" A bonnie terrier that, sir; and a fell 
chield at the vermin, I warrant him — that is, if he's been weel 
entered, for it a' lies in that." " Really, sir," said Brown, 
" his education has been somewhat neglected, and his chief 
property is being a pleasant companion." 

" Aye, sir? that's a pity, begging your pardon, it's a great 
pity that — beast or body, education should aye be minded." — 
(Guy Manner ing.) 

p. 49. We are accustomed to see men deride 8fC.~] — " It has 
often and with truth been said, that unbelief is an inverted super- 
stition, and our age suffers greatly by it. A noble deed is attri- 
buted to selfishness, an heroic action to vanity, an undeniable 
poetic production to a state of delirium; nay, what is still 
stranger, every thing of the highest excellence that comes forth, 
every thing most worthy of remark that occurs, is, so long as 
it is barely possible, denied." — (Goethe, Farbenlehre.) 

p. 50. We long for revelation, which nowhere burns, fyc.~\ — 
It is clear from Goethe's Memoirs, and many other parts of his 
works, that he is here describing the workings of his own mind 
in youth; that, when his spirit was tormented by doubts, he 
constantly referred to the Bible for consolation, and found it 
there. It also appears that he occasionally struggled to pene- 
trate below the surface in somewhat the same manner as 
Faust. " So far as the main sense was concerned, I held by 
Luther's edition; in particulars, I referred occasionally to 
Schmidt's verbal translations, and sought to make my little 
Hebrew as useful as I could." It is a singular fact that, next 
to the Bible, the book which Goethe was fondest of, and which 
confessedly exercised the greatest influence on his mind, was 
Spinosa. So constantly, indeed, was he studying this writer. 



( 248 ) 



that Herder on one occasion is said to have exclaimed to him, 
"Why you literally never read any Latin book but Spinosa!" 

In allusion to Faust's attempt to translte the \oyog , the Ger- 
man commentators are filled to overflowing with controver- 
sial divinity; whilst the French translator, M. Sainte-Aulaire, 
omits the whole passage as an unmeaning play of words. 

In one of Lessing's plans for a drama to be founded on 
Faust, Faust was to be represented studying Aristotle ( Ueber 
Goethe s Faust §c. 82). In Calderon's II Magico Prodigioso, 
Cyprian is represented studying Pliny. 

p. 52. Salamander, Undine, Sylph, Kobold.'] — I shall illus" 
trate Faust's conjuration by an extract from a very singular 
work, Entretiens sur les Sciences secretes du Comte de Gabalis, 
by M. de Villars, in which Salamanders, Undines, Sylphs, and 
Kobolds (alias Gnomes) are described: — 

" ' When you shall be enrolled among the children of the 
philosophers, and your eyes fortified by the use of the holy 
elixir, you will discover that the elements are inhabited by 
very perfect creatures, of the knowledge of whom the sin of 
Adam deprived his unfortunate posterity. The immense space 
between earth and sky has other inhabitants than birds and 
flies; the ocean other guests than whales and sprats; the earth 
w r as not made for moles alone, nor is the desolating flame itself 
a desert. 

" ' The air is full of beings of human form, proud in appear- 
ance, but docile in reality, great lovers of science, officious 
toward sages, intolerant toward fools. Their wives and 
daughters are masculine Amazonian beauties ' 

" e How! you do not mean to say that spirits marry?' 

" 'Be not alarmed, my son, about such trifles; believe what 
I say to be solid and true, and the faithful epitome of cabalistic 
science, which it will only depend on yourself one day to verify 
by your own eyes. Know then that seas and rivers are inha- 
bited as well as the air; and that ascended sages have given 
the name of lindanes or Nymphs to this floating population. 



( 249 ) 



They engender few males ; women overflow : their beauty is 
extreme ; the daughters of men are incomparably inferior. 

" < The earth is filled down to its very centre with Gnomes, 
a people of small stature, the wardens of treasures, mines, and 
precious stones. They are ingenious, friendly to man, and 
easy to command. They furnish the children of sages with all 
the money they want, and ask as the reward of their service 
only the honour of being commanded. Their women are 
small, very agreeable, and magnificent in their attire. 

" ' As for the Salamanders, who inhabit the fiery region, 
they wait on the sages, but without any eagerness for the task ; 
their females are rarely to be seen.' — 4 So much the better, 
(interrupted I,) who wishes to fall in with such apparitions, 
and to converse with so ugly a beast as a male or female Sala- 
mander?' — £ You are under a mistake (replied he); such may 
be the idea of ignorant painters or statuaries, but the women 
among the Salamanders are very beautiful, and more so than 
any others, inasmuch as they belong to a purer element. I 
pass over the description of these nations, because you may 
yourself, if so disposed, see them at your leisure, and observe 
in person their raiment, their food, their manners, their 
wonderful laws and subordination. You will be yet more 
charmed by the beauty of their minds than of their bodies; 
but you will not be able to avoid pitying these unfortunates, 
when they inform you that their souls are mortal, and that 
they have no hope of that eternal fruition of the Supreme 
Being, whom they know and adore religiously. They will tell 
you that, being composed of the purer particles of the elements 
which they inhabit, they live indeed for ages, but then dissolve. 
Ah, what is time compared with eternity ! The thought of se- 
parating into unconscious atoms deeply afflicts them ; we have 
great difficulty in consoling them. 

" ' Our forefathers in true wisdom, who spoke with God face 
to face, complained to him of the lot of these people. God, 
whose mercy is without end, revealed to them that a remedy 
might be found for this woe, and inspired them with the infor- 
mation that in like manner as man, by contracting an alliance 



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with God, has become a partaker in the divine nature, so the 
Sylphs, Gnomes, lindanes, and Salamanders, by an alliance 
contracted with man, may become co-heirs of immortality. 
Thus a Nymph or a Salamander becomes immortal, and capa- 
ble of that beatitude to which we aspire, when she is fortunate 
enough to marry a sage ; and a Gnome or a Sylph ceases to be 
mortal the day he marries a human virgin. 

" ' Hence the error of the first century into which Justin the 
Martyr, Tertullian, Clement the Alexandrian, the Christian 
philosopher Athenagoras, Cyprian, and other writers of those 
days, have fallen. They were aware that these elemental semi- 
men pursued an intercourse with girls, and were thence led to 
believe that the fall of the angels proceeded from their having 
indulged a love of women. Some Gnomes, desirous of be- 
coming immortal, had wooed with presents of jewels certain 
daughters of men ; and these authors, rashly trusting to their 
own misinterpretations of the book of Enoch, imagined that by 
sons of God (are not all creatures such?) the angelic race was 
to be understood. But undoubtedly the Sylphs, and other ele- 
mentary spirits, are the real children of Elohim. 

" 1 In order to obtain an empire over the Salamanders, it is 
necessary to purify and exalt the element of fire which is 
within us; for each of the elements, purified, is a loadstone 
which attracts the corresponding spirits. The familiarity of 
the inferior orders is most easily had. Swallow daily ever so 
little pure air, water, or earth, which has been alchymically ex- 
posed to the sun's rays in a globe of glass hermetically sealed, 
and you will behold in the atmosphere the fluttering republic 
of the Sylphs ; Nymphs will swim to meet you at every river's 
brink, and the treasure-wardens display before you their impe- 
rishable hoards.'" 

I have to thank Mr. William Taylor, of Norwich, for calling 
my attention to this book, which, beyond a doubt, furnished 
Pope (unknown, says Mr, Taylor, to his English commenta- 
tors) with machinery for his Rape of the Lock, suggested the 
plot of Idris and Zenide to Wieland, and gave De la Motte 
Fouque a basis for his delightful story of Undine. As I have 



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mentioned Undine, I shall take the liberty of entering my 
protest against the French translation by which the tale is 
principally known out of Germany. It is a mere paraphrase, 
in a style the very opposite of the original. In the course of 
the voyage down the Danube, Madame De Montolieu has ac- 
tually given a description of the persons of Bertha and Undine, 
which are not described at all in the text. But the mistrans- 
lations of which I most complain are such as inbrunstig kus- 
send by servant sur son cceur. A lady might be supposed to 
know the difference without any reflection on her modesty.* 

p. 53. Mephistopheles comes forward in the dress of a travel- 
ling scholar.'] — " That Mephistopheles comes forth as a travel- 
ling scholar (scholasticus), and therefore as a philosopher, is 
not without significance. For on seeing him Faust knows that 
he is approached as a friend, he himself being devoted to phi- 
losophy; and even the expression fahrender scholast expresses 
the unquiet with which Faust is filled. The wandering about 
through the world — for example, of Jordanus Bruno, &c. — 
is to be viewed with reference to internal restlessness, impelled 
by which these philosophers wandered unceasingly from place 
to place." — (Dr. HinricJis Msih. Vorl. p. 98.) Dr. Sieglitz 
(Sage, p. 64,) furnishes some curious particulars as to these 
scholastici vagantes as they were called, from which it would 
seem that they did not fill a very respectable station in society ; 
and it is no compliment to Giordano Bruno (a man of distin- 
guished merit) to be put forth as an example of the character. 

p. 54. Flygod.~\ — Meaning Beelzebub. The following note 
was given me by a friend. 

" 3DT biyi, Baal Zebub, Fly-Baal, i. e. the God Baal, as 
deus averruncus muscarum, 2 K. i. 2, 3, 16, — an oracular 

* I read over this passage to the Baron de la Motte Fouquet last 
summer ; he laughed heartily, and said he perfectly agreed with me. 
He gave high praise to the English translations from his works, The 
Magic Ring and Sintram and his Followers. 



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Deity of the Ekronites, similar to the ZeSc anopvioq of the 
Greeks (Pausan. Eliac. c. 14) ; or to the Deus Miagros (Solin, 
c. 1). — Gesenius in voce, ^pQf. He adds, it has been incor- 
rectly regarded as a name of reproach, and refers to Carpzov 
(Apparat. Antiq. Heb. 497.) However, it is sufficient for your 
purpose, that it has generally been so regarded. And never, 
since I was aware of this, have I seen a big blooming blue- 
bottle fly without thinking of Satan." 

In Dr. Franz Horn's Heitere Spazierg'dnge there is an essay 
entitled Beelzebub, confirming this etymology. 

p. 54. I am a pari of the part which in the beginning was all, 
Sfc.~\ — " And the earth was without form and void; and dark- 
ness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God 
moved upon the face of the waters. 

" And God said, Let there be light : and there was light. 

" And God saw the light, that it was good : and God divided 
the light from the darkness." — (Gen. c. 1.) 

" Granted, that day, proceeding from the original source of 
light, deserves all honour, because it invigorates, quickens, 
gladdens — still it does not follow that darkness must be ad- 
dressed and shunned as the evil principle, because it makes us 
uneasy, and lulls us to sleep ; we rather see in such an effect 
the characteristics of sensuous beings controlled by pheno- 
mena." — (Goethe.) 

p. 55. That which is opposed to nothing.'] — Dr. Schubart cau- 
tions us against supposing that under the term nichts a com- 
plete void is intended, as it means merely the original state of 
things under the reign of Chaos. 

• p. 55. From air, water, earth, 4"c] — " In the air, in the 

water, in the marshes, in the sand, — genera and species multi- 
plied, and I believe that they will continue to multiply in the 
same proportion with the course of discovery." — (Herder, Ideen 
zur Philosophic, §c. b. 2, c. 4.) 



( 253 ) 



p. 56. The Pentagram,'] — The Pentagram, Pentalpha, or 
Drudenfuss, was a pentagonal figure like the following : — 



— supposed to possess the same sort of power which used popu- 
larly to be attributed to the horseshoe amongst us. I owe the 
following quotation, in which the term occurs, to a friend : — 



Those who wish for more information on this subject may 
refer to Lucian's Dialogue— De lapsu inter salutandum — in the 
Amsterdam quarto edition of 1743, vol. i. p. 729, 730, in notis. 
The Pentalpha is also mentioned in Hobhouse's Historical 
Illustrations of the Fourth Canto of Childe Harold, p. 334. 

In one of a series of engravings by a Dutch artist of the 
beginning of the seventeenth century (Von Sichem by name), 
Faust is represented standing within two intersecting circles, 
upon two intersecting squares, conjuring Mephistopheles, who 
is just appearing in his true shape. 

p. 57. Tell me something worth telling.'] — It is a matter of 
doubt whether gute M'dhr zu sagen does not mean to tell one's 
fortune. 

p. 57. A compact^ a binding one, may be made with you 
gentlemen.] — " These are fine promises (replied the student) ; 
but you gentlemen devils are accused of not being religious 
observers of what you promise to men. It is a groundless 
charge, replied Asmodeus; some of my brethren indeed make 
no scruple of breaking their word, but I am a slave to mine." — 
{The Devil upon Two Sticks, chap. 1.) 





( 254 ) 



p. 63. What can the world afford me? — " Thou shalt re- 
nounce! " — " Thou shalt renounce /"] — " Our physical as well as 
social life, manners, customs, worldly wisdom, philosophy, reli- 
gion, all exclaim to us, " That we shall renounce." — (Dichtung 
und Wahrheit, part ii. book 17.) 

p. 64. Since a sweet familiar tone, S$c.~] 

" My eyes are dim with childish tears, 
My heart is idly stirred ; 
For the same sound is in my ears 
Which in those days I heard."' — Wordsworth. 

p. 66. And what am I to do for you in return.~] — The actual 
or traditional compact was to the following effect : 

" Puis le D. Fauste recoit son sang sur une tuile, et y met 
des charbons tout chauds, et ecrit comme s'ensuit ci-apres: 

" ' Jean Fauste, Docteur, reconnois de ma propre main ma- 
nifestement pour une chose ratifiee, et ce en vertu de cet ecrit: 
qu'apres que je me suis mis a speculer les elemens, et apres les 
dons qui m'ont ete distribuez et departis de la-haut : lesquels 
n'ont point trouvel d'habitude dans mon entendement. Et de 
ce que je n'ai peu etre enseigne autrement des hommes, lors je 
me suis presentement adonne a. un Esprit, qui s'appelle Mt- 
phostophiles, qui est valet du prince infernal en Orient, par 
paction entre lui et moi, qu'il m'adresseroit et m'appr en droit, 
comme il m'etoit predestine, qui aussi reciproquement m'a 
promis de m'etre sujet en toutes choses. Partant et a l'oppo- 
site, je lui ai promis et lui certifie, que d'ici a, vingt-quatre ans 
de la date de ces presentes, vivant jusques-la completement, 
comme il m'enseignera en son art et science, et en ses inven- 
tions me maintiendra, gouvernera, conduira, et me fera tout 
bien, avec toutes choses necessaires a mon corps, a mon ame, 
a, ma chair, k mon sang et a ma sante : que je suis et serai sien 
a jamais. Partant, je renonce a tout ce qui est pour la vie du 
maitre celeste et de tous les hommes, et que je sois en tout sien. 
Pour plus grande certitude, et plus grande confirmation, j'ai 



( 255 ) 



£crit la presente promesse de ma propre main, et l'ai sous-ecrit 
de mon propre sang que je me suis tire expressement pour ce 
faire, de mon sens et de mon jugement, de ma pensee et 
volonte, etl'ai arrete, scelle et testifie, etc." — (Cayet's Widman, 
part i.) 

In Marlow's Faustus the instrument is formally set out. 

p. 67. But if thou hast food &fc.~] — This passage has caused 
a good deal of puzzling, though neither Falk nor Schubart 
seems to be aware of any difficulty : 

" I know thy rotten gifts, says Faust. Which of thy tine 
goods of the earth will'st thou offer me ? How could the like 
of thee ever be capable of measuring the unquiet of man's 
breast. Hast thou food to serve up which never satisfies ? Or 
canst thou only show trees which daily bloom anew and bud 
again? I loathe this foliage of yesterday, this tale, which, ever 
the same, is told in the morning, and in the evening dies away 
again — 

" Zeig mir die Frucht die fault eh' man sie bricht 
Und Baume die sich taglich neu begriinen." — 

(Falk, p. 283.) 

" This (Mephistopheles' promise) appears to Faust but 
mockery. What can a devil give a man to satisfy him, when 
he is not capable of giving it to himself? The gifts of a devil, 
he says, are but delusion, and melt away in the same manner 
as his quicksilver-like gold: thus he can only bestow fruits 
which would not rot before the plucking, but no ever-budding 
tree sprouts forth beneath his skill and fostering." — (Schubart, 
198.) 

None of the editions that I have ever seen, make the hast du 
an interrogatory, as Falk seems to understand it. There are 
authorities, however, for construing it — Though thou hast, &c. 
It is also contended that — 

" Doch hast du Speise die nicht sattigt, hast 
Du rothes Geld, &c." 



( 256 ) 



is to be construed affirmatively: *■* However, thou hast food 
which never satisfies," &c. ; — and that the zeig mir, &c. is 
ironical and tantamount to saying: " This is all thou canst show 
me." But on this construction I do not see how the inversion 
of the second hast du is to be justified, whilst the answer of 
Mephistopheles clearly implies that the zeig mir &c. was a 
demand on the part of Faust. The most probable supposition 
is, that Faust's meaning was pretty nearly the same as in the 
subsequent speech, in which he expresses a wish to enjoy all 
that is parcelled out amongst mankind — pain and pleasure, 
success and disappointment, indifferently. Taking this wish 
into consideration, we may well suppose him saying: — " You 
can give nothing of any real value in the eyes of a man like 
me; but if you have the common perishable enjoyments of 
humanity to bestow, let me have them." 

The following ingenious suggestion has been received since 
the publication of my first edition: — "The ' Doch hast du,' 
is more than simply affirmative ; the doch with the inverted 
' hast' §c. implies an ironical apology for the above epithet of 
' poor.' 1 Poor I called thee, and yet thou hast &c. pleasures, 
which are transient, and cannot captivate a mind like mine.' 
My German edition has a point after ' verschwindet,' and I 

should like to add a dash ; as the two following lines, 

1 Zeig mir' &c. prove an entire change of thought, and that 
Faust has now made up his mind to accept the terms. Con- 
vinced that his mind is not likely to be pleased by the gifts of 
Mephistopheles, he invites him, now full of self-conceit, to show 
him the fruit which rots &c. or to try him whether he is a 
man to enjoy such ephemeral, sensual pleasures as a devil has it 
in his power to grant. Mephistopheles' answer, ' such a task' 
&c. arises from dissimulation ; he feigns to take the request of 
Faust in real good earnest, though he is aware of Faust's con- 
ceit, and thus he adds — 4 but, my good friend, you are in a bad 
humour now, the time will come when you will be better recon- 
ciled to the enjoyments which I have for you.' This peri- 
phrastic explanation appears to me in unison with the ' I care 



( 257 ) 



little about the other side,' &c. and ' If ever I lie down calm 
and composed' &c." 

p. 68. At the doctors feast.] — Alluding to the inauguration 
feast given on the taking of a degree. 

p. 72. I am not a hair's breadth higher fyc] — "Which of 
you by taking thought can add one cubit to his stature." — » 
Matth. vi. 27. 

p. 72, 1. 10. — As all the French translators have mistaken 
the word intended, I shall follow Gibbon's example, and give 

it in a learned language. The German H is o^sts, and 

not, as the French translators suppose, iivy*. The point, how- 
ever, is doubtful. 

p. 72. And am a proper man.] — 

" As proper a man as any in Venice." — Shakspeare. 

p. 73. Whose overstrained striving oerleaps fyc] — 
" I have no spur 
To prick the sides of my intent, but only 
Vaulting Ambition, which o'erleaps itself 
And falls on the other side." — Macbeth. 

p. 74. A Student enters.] — This scene is a satire on the 
modes of instruction pursued in German Universities, and is 
much admired. But the effect is in a great measure produced 
by the happy application of pedantic phrases and college slang, 
which are no more capable of being relished in England than 
such terms as wooden-spoon, little-go, cramming, or plucking, in 
Germany. A distinguished scholar has the following allusion to 
this scene and the three other scenes which have been thought 
to resemble it in tone : — " To the great and overwhelming 
tragic powers of Goethe, Aristophanes, of course, can make no 
pretension; but in their preference of the arbitrary comic of 
manners, the two writers come very close together ; and both 



( 258 ) 



writers should have lived, as Madame de Stael expresses it, 
when there was an intellectual chaos, similar to the material 
chaos. Had Aristophanes written in modern times, it is, per- 
haps, not impertinent to suggest, that the Auerbach's Keller 
in Leipzig, the Hexenkiiche, the Walpurgisnacht, and perhaps 
the quizzing scene with the young student just fresh from his 
university, are precisely the sort of scenes which would have 
fallen from his pen." — Mitchell's Translation of Aristophanes, 
Pre/, p. xxvii. 

It is evident from many passages in his Memoirs, that 
Goethe's early impressions of university pursuits were pretty 
nearly what he has put into the mouth of Mephistopheles ; nor, 
if we are to believe Falk, did his opinions change materially in 
after-life: 

" Our scientific men are rather too fond of details. They 
count out to us the whole consistency of the earth in separate 
lots, and are so happy as to have a different name for every lot. 
That is argil (thonerde) ; that is quartz (keiselerde) ; that is this, 
and this is that. But what am I the better if I am ever so 
perfect in all these names? When I hear them I always think 
of the old lines in Faust — 

' Encheiresin natura nennt's die Chemie 
Bohrt sich selber Esel und weiss nicht wie !' 

" What am I the better for these lots? what for their names? 
I want to know what it is that impels every several portion of 
the universe to seek out some other portion, — either to rule or 
to obey it, — and qualifies some for the one part and some for 
the other, according to a law innate in them all, and operating 
like a voluntary choice. But this is precisely the point upon 
which the most perfect and universal silence prevails." 

" Every thing in science," said he at another time, with the 
same turn of thought, " is become too much divided into com- 
partments. In our professors' chairs the several provinces 
( F'dcher) are violently and arbitrarily severed, and allotted into 
half-yearly courses of lectures, according to fixed plans. The 
number of real discoveries is small, especially when one views 



( 259 ) 



them consecutively through a few centuries. Most of what 
these people are so busy about, is mere repetition of what has 
been said by this or that celebrated predecessor. Such a thing 
as independent original knowledge is hardly thought of. Young 
men are driven in flocks into lecture-rooms, and are crammed, 
for want of any real nutriment, with quotations and words. 
The insight which is wanting to the teacher, the learner is to 
get for himself as he may. No great wisdom or acuteness is 
necessary to perceive that this is an entirely mistaken path." 

I copy this from Mrs. Austin's forthcoming translation, 
(since published under the title of Characteristics of Goethe 
&c), the sheets of which were kindly lent to me by her. One 
of the very last books in Goethe's hands was this lady's trans- 
lation of the German Prince's Tour, and I have heard that he 
spoke with high hope of the progress that might be made by 
such talents as her's in bringing England better acquainted with 
Germany. He little thought how soon they were to be em- 
ployed in constructing a monument to himself. It is worthy 
of note that Burton (Anat. part i. sect. 2, subsec. 7,) remarks 
on the several sciences in somewhat the same spirit as Goethe. 

p. 75. Spanish boots.'] — I have been told by literary men in 
Germany that the Spanish boot was an instrument of torture, 
like the Scottish boot mentioned in Old Mortality (vol. ii. p. 
406) ; others say that the name used to be given to a common 
sort of boot fitting tight to the leg. 

p. 76. Then many a day will be spent in teaching you fyc] — 
" In logic it struck me as strange that I was so to pull to 
pieces, dismember, and, as it were, destroy those very opera- 
tions of the mind which I had gone through with the greatest 
ease from my youth, in order to perceive the proper use of 
them." — (Goethe's Memoirs.) 

" And all a rhetorician's rules, 
Teach nothing but to name his tools." — Hudibras. 

s 2 



( 260 ) 



p. 76. He who wishes to know and describe any thing living 

4-c.]- 

" Like following life in creatures we dissect, 
We lose it in the moment we detect." — Pope. 

" It was, generally speaking, the prevailing tendency of the 
time which preceded our own, — a tendency displayed also in 
physical science, to consider what is possessed of life as a mere 
accumulation of dead parts, to separate what exists only in con- 
nection and cannot be otherwise conceived, instead of pene- 
trating to the central point and viewing all the parts as so 
many irradiations from it." — {SchlegeVs Lectures on Dramatic 
Art and Literature, vol. ii. p. 127.) 

p. 77. Five lectures every day.'] — Five is the number of 
Courses of Lectures a young and eager student ordinarily at- 
tends at the outset. 

p. 77. As if the Holy Ghost were dictating to you.~\ — It is 
the custom in Germany for the professors to read slowly enough 
for their pupils to follow them with the pen. This is called 
dictating, and few professors can venture to depart from it. 
I am acquainted with a very eminent one who lost the greater 
part of his class by his contumacy. I have generally found 
that students who took down the lecture verbatim, knew very 
little of the substance of what had been said. 

p. 77. I cannot reconcile myself to jurisprudence. ~] — Here 
again Goethe is repeating his own sentiments. He was origi- 
nally destined by his father for the law, but it was only with 
the greatest reluctance that he could be brought to q u alify him- 
self for the necessary examination at Strasburg, where such 
examinations were comparatively light. He says, that he had 
no turn for any thing positive. — {Memoirs, book ix.) I pre- 
sume it is hardly necessary to add that the exclamation, " Woe 
to thee that thou art a grandson," alludes to the artificial and 
complicated systems which people coming late into the world 



( 261 ) 



are pretty sure to find entailed upon them — as a lawyer, fond 
of my profession, I must be excused for adding — unavoidably. 
The law that is born with us, means, I suppose, what in com- 
mon parlance is called the law of nature. It may assist future 
translators, not versed in German jurisprudence, to be told, that 
Gesetz. in strictness, means enactment, and Recht, law or a 
rule of law, generally. Gesetz' und Rechte, therefore, are both 
included under the term laws. 

p. 79. The spirit of medicine.~] — It appears that Goethe as- 
sociated a good deal with medical students at Strasburg, and 
took considerable interest in the studies usually followed in con- 
nection with medicine. 

" Un cours professe a. la meme faculte (Medicine, at Wiirtz- 
burg,) par M. Hensler porte un litre trop piquant pour que 
nous ne croyions pas devoir le reproduire. II se propose de 
traiter de la science et de la vie Universitaire en general, et 
plus particulierement de la medecine et de la methode la plus 
favorable a suivre pour l'etudier, d'apres le Faust de Goethe." — 
(From an article in a late number of the Revue Enct/clopedique, 
by Mr. Lagarmitte.) There is a profound Latin work on 
Theology by a gentleman named Valzer, in which the imme- 
diately preceding passage in theology is raised into as much 
importance as ever M. Hensler can raise the remarks on 
Medicine. 

p. 81. We have only to spread out the mantle.~\ — This was 
the mode of travelling afforded by Asmodeus to Don Cleofas. 

p. 82. Auerbach's cellar at Leipzig.'} — Auerbach's cellar is a 
place of public entertainment of the same class and character 
as the Cider Cellar in Maiden Lane, Covent Garden. I supped 
there during my last visit to Germany, and took some pains to 
ascertain the traditions connected with it, which the waiter 
seemed to have a particular pleasure in communicating. He 
assured me that there was not the shadow of a doubt as to my 
being seated in the very vault in which both Faust and Goethe 



( 262 ) 



had caroused ; and producing an old copy of Widman, he avowed 
himself ready to make oath that it had heen in the cellar, as a 
sort of heir-loom, for 300 years at the least. It was really a 
very curious copy, but only bore the date of MDCXC V\ But 
the principal curiosities of the vault are two very old paintings, 
shaped like the segment of a circle, painted, it is supposed, to 
commemorate Faust's presence and achievements there. The 
one represents him at table drinking to the sound of music, 
with a party of students ; the other represents him in the act of 
passing out at the door upon a cask, whilst the spectators are 
holding up their hands in astonishment. The first mentioned 
bears a Latin inscription, which has proved a puzzler to the 
philologists :* — 

" Vive, Bibe, Obgregare, Memor 
Fauste hujus et hujus 
Paenae. Aderat claudo haec 
Asterat amplo Gradu. — 1525." 

Over the other are inscribed the lines following : 

" Doctor Faust zu dieser Frist 
Aus Auerbach's Keller geritten ist, 
Auf einem Fass mit Wein geschwind, 
Welches gesehen viel Mutterkind. 
Solches durch seine subtile Kraft hat gethan, 
Und des Teufel's Lohn empfangen davon. — 1525." 

It has been made a doubt whether this date (1525) refers to 
the time at which the pictures were painted, or to that at which 
the adventures took place. The following are the best tradi- 
tional accounts of the magical exploits in the text : 

" At the city of Prague is a publican's house, known by the 
sign of the Anchor, where the Doctor one day called as he was 
upon a tour. Seating himself among the travellers, in a short 
time he thus accosted them — ' Gentlemen, would you like to 
partake of all kinds of foreign wines in the world?' The whole 

* See the Leipsiger Tageblatt for 1833, No. ! 22, 23, 25 ; and 
Sieglitz's Sage vom Doctor Faust. 



( 263 ) 



party, with one accord, cried out, ' Yes, yes !' 1 Then will you 
first like to taste the French, Spanish, Rhenish, Malaga, or any 
other kind?' continued he, ' whichever you most approve?' 

" Upon this one of the guests exclaimed — £ Doctor Faustus ! 
whatever wine you please to furnish, Doctor, we shall find 
some means of disposing of it.' Whereupon he begged them 
to provide him with plenty of bottles and glasses, and he would 
supply the rest. This being done, he bored several holes in 
the table, and placing a funnel in each, he held the bottles 
under it, and decanted as much wine as they would contain. 
As he laid them down one after another, the delighted guests 
began to laugh heartily, and heartily did they regale them- 
selves." — (Roscoes German Novelists, vol. i. p. 377.) The 
other adventure, in which the guests of Faust seize each other's 
noses mistaking them for grapes, is also told by Mr. Roscoe, 
but I prefer the quaintness of the old French version of 
Widman : — 

" Le Docteur Fauste avoit, en un certain lieu, invite des 
hommes principaux pour les traiter, sans qu'il eut apprete 
aucune chose. Quand done ils furent venus, ils virent bien la 
table couverte, mais la cuisine etoit encore froide. II se faisoit 
aussi des noces, le meme soir, d'un riche et honnete bourgeois, 
et avoient ete tous les domestiques de la maison empechez, 
pour bien et honorablement traiter les gens qui y etoient in- 
vitez. Ce que le Docteur Fauste aiant appris, commanda a 
son Esprit que de ces noces il lui apportat un service de vivres 
tout appretez, soit poissons ou autres, qu 'incontinent il les 
enlevat de la pour traiter ses hotes. Soudain il y eut en la 
maison, ou Ton faisoit les noces, un grand vent par les che- 
minees, fenetres et portes, qui eteignit toutes les chandelles. 
Apres que le vent fut cesse, et les chandelles derechef allumez, 
et qu'ils eurent vu d'ou le tumulte avoit ete, ils trouverent qu'il 
man quoit a un mets une piece de roti, a un autre une poule, k 
un autre une oye, et que dans la chaudiere il manquoit aussi 
de grands poissons. Lors furent Fauste et ses invitez pourvus 
de vivres, mais le vin manquoit : toutefois non pas long-temps, 
car Mephostophiles fut fort bien au voiage de Florence dans les 



( 264 ) 



caves de Fougres, dont il en apporta quantite ; mais apres qu'ils 
eurent mange, ils desiroient (qui est ce pour quoi ils etoient 
principalement venus,) qu'il leur fit pour plaisir quelque tour 
d'enchantemens. Lors il leur fit venir sur la table une vigne 
avec ses grappes de saison, dont un chacun en prit sa part. II 
commanda puis apres de prendre un couteau, et le mettre a la 
racine, comme s'ils l'eussent voulu couper. Neanmoins, ils 
n'en purent pas venir a bout : puis apres, il s'en alia hors des 
etuves, et ne tarda gueres sans revenir ; lors ils s'arreterent tous 
et se tinrent l'un l'autre par le nez, et un couteau dessus. 
Quand done puis apres ils voulurent, ils purent couper les 
grappes. Cela leur fut ainsi mis aucunement, mais ils eurent 
bien voulu qu'il les eut fait venir toutes meures." — (Part iii. 
ch. 33.) 

The adventure on the cask is also recorded in this history. 

p. 83. Soar up, Madam Nightingale, give my sweetheart ten 
thousand greetings for me.~] — The following is the song which 
Goethe probably had in his mind: — 

" FRAU NACHTIGALL. 

" Nachtigal, ich hor dich singen 
Das Herz mbcht mir im Leib zerspringen, 
Komme doch und sag mir bald, 
Wie ich mich verhalten soil. 

" Nachtigal, ich seh dich laufen 
An dem Bachlein thust du saufen, 
Du tunkst dein klein Schn'ablein ein 
Meinst es war der beste Wein. 

" Nachtigal, wo ist gut wohnen, 
Auf den Linden, in den Kronen, 
Bei der schon Frau Nachtigal, 
Griiss mein Schdtzchen tausendmai." 

I take this song from the collection of Alte Deutsche Lieder, 
entitled Des Knaben Wmiderhorn, compiled by MM. von Arnim 



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and Brentano. The plan was probably suggested by Dr. Percy's 
Relics ; a book, by the by, which (translated and imitated by 
Burger, Herder and others) has exercised at least as great an 
influence on German literature as on our own. (See some 
interesting remarks on this subject in the last edition of Words- 
worth's Works, vol. i. p. 329.) 

p. 86. Leipzig is the place £$c.~] — It appears from his Me- 
moirs, that when Goethe commenced his college studies at 
Leipzig, a great affectation of politeness prevailed amongst the 
students. 

p. 87. I dare say you are lately from Rippach? Did you sup 
with Mr. Hans before you left ?] — Rippach is a village near 
Leipzig, and to ask for Hans von Rippach, an entirely fictitious 
personage, was an old joke amongst the students. The ready 
reply of Mephistopheles indicating no surprise, shows Siebel 
and Altmayer that he is up to it. Hans is the German Jack, 
as Hans der Riesentodter, Jack the Giant-killer. 

p. 89. Mephistopheles sings. - ] — A particular favourite at the 
court of Weimar is said to be alluded to. " Bertuch, the father 
(says Falk), who was treasurer to the duke, used in after times 
to speak with great glee of a singular head in the accounts 
which he had to submit in those days. It consisted almost 
entirely of breeches, waistcoats, shoes and stockings for Ger- 
man literati, who were wandering within the gates of Weimar, 
slenderly provided with those articles." The favourite in ques- 
tion was probably one of them. 

p. 97. Witch's Kitchen.] — The best commentary on this 
scene is to be found in Reztsch's Outlines. He represents the 
monkeys as something between the monkey and the baboon.* 
I am not precisely aware what species of monkey the Meerkatze 

* Since this was written, I have been informed by Reztsch himself 
that Meerkatze is the common little long-tailed monkey. 



( 266 ) 



really is. The term is thus used in a German translation of 
Lear. " Eine unvergleichliche Ausflucht fiir einen Huren- 
jager, seinen Meerkatzen-trieb den Sternen zur Last zu legen." 
(Act i. sc. 2, in Edmund's Speech on Planetary Influences.) — 
Madame de Stael considers it to mean something between a 
monkey and a cat. 

The following passage may save the reader a good deal of 
profitless puzzling: — " For thirty years they (the Germans) 
have been sorely vexed and tormented in spirit by the broom- 
stick on the Blocksberg and the cat's dialogue in the Witch's 
kitchen, which occur in Faust, and all the interpreting and 
allegorizing of this dramatic-humouristic extravaganza have 
never thoroughly prospered. Really people should learn when 
they are young to make and to take a joke, and to throw away 
scraps as scraps." — (Falk.) 

p. 99. At the feast 8fC.~\ — Falk observes, in allusion to the 
text of these three lines, that Faust and Mephistopheles are 
greeted in a tone which, through the diphthong au, bears .a 
strong affinity to the language of monkeys. 

p. 99. Coarse beggars' broth.~\ — " The breiten Bettel suppen 
have an ironical reference to the coarse superstitions which ex- 
tend with a thick palpable shade amongst all nations throughout 
the whole history of the world." — (Falk.) 

p. 101. Take the brush here fyc.~\ — Retzsch represents Me- 
phistopheles as holding a light sort of skreen or fan in his haud. 

p. 102. Oh! be so good as to glue the crown, &)C.~] — " A wish 
which, profoundly considered, sounds so politically, that one 
would swear the monkey-spirits had read the history of both 
the old Romish and the new empire, chapter by chapter, with 
all its dethronings and assassinations, from the beginning of 
the first to the end of the last war." — (Falk.) 



( 267 ) 



p. 104. Thou atomy. ~\ — 

" Thou atomy, thou!" — Hen. V. act v. sc. 4. 

p. 104. The northern phantom is no more to be seen. Where 
do you now see horns, tail, and claws?'] — The old German 
catechisms, from Luther's time downwards, were generally- 
adorned with a frontispiece, representing the Devil with all the 
above-mentioned appendages. This laudable mode of inocu- 
lating youth with correct theological notions has been gradually 
laid aside in most countries. 

p. 107. For a downright contradiction fyc] — Dr. Hinrich's 
note on this passage is : — " A system of philosophy which, like 
that of Hegel, begins with such a contradiction, — for instance, 
Das Seyn ist Nichts, has the advantage that it frightens away 
those who have no call for it, both wise men and fools." If 
this be an advantage, I bear my willing testimony that Hegel 
possesses it. I once heard a singular illustration of his obscu- 
rity. He had proposed a toast at a public dinner, which it 
was the duty of the toast-master to give out. This functionary 
made several efforts, and had more than one consultation with 
the philosopher, but was at length obliged to give up the under- 
taking in despair, and declared aloud that he did not under- 
stand a word of it. I heard this story told at a supper party in 
Germany by a very eminent Professor. 

p. 110. Margaret.'] — Goethe's first love was called Margaret. 
She was a girl of an inferior rank in life, apprenticed, during 
the love-affair, to a milliner. He was about fifteen at the com- 
mencement of the acquaintance, and she two or three years 
older. Previously to the introduction he was in the habit of 
following her to church, but never ventured on accosting her. — 
(See the Dichtung und Wahrheit, b. 5.) I almost wish she had 
been called Elizabeth, that I might use the sweet English di- 
minutive, Bessy. I cannot make up my mind to call her 
Peggy, which is the correct translation of Gretchen. As Mar- 



( 268 ) 



garet is supposed to belong to about the same rank in life as 
Jeannie Deans, it is also to be wished that she could be made 
to speak the same dialect, for even the most fastidious in such 
matters never seem to associate low Scotch with vulgarity. 
But here I should want the pen of my friend, the translator of 
Wilhelm Meister; which, indeed, I have wanted often enough 
as it is. After all, the only real vulgarity is affectation. 

" L'histoire de Marguerite serre douloureusement le coeur. 
Son etat vulgaire, son esprit borne, tout ce qui la soumet au 
malheur, sans qu'elle puisse y resister, inspire encore plus de 
pitie pour elle . . . Goethe, dans ses romans et dans ses pieces, 
n'a presque jamais donne des qualites superieures aux femmes, 
mais il peint a merveille le caractere de foiblesse, qui leur rend 
la protection si necessaire." — {Madame de Stael.) 

I wish Mrs. Jameson would devote a chapter in her next 
work to Goethe's women ; she would form, I am sure, a higher 
and a truer estimate of a Mignon or a Clara, than Madame; 
and even the lowly and erring Margaret would rise the purer 
from her touch. — 

" A creature not too bright or good, 
For human nature's daily food ; 
For transient sorrows, simple wiles, 
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles." 

Much as this lady has been admired, she has never yet been 
adequately spoken of, except perhaps by a writer in Blackwood ; 
nor has even he said all that I could wish to say, or have 
said, of her earnest truth of feeling, her passionate intensity of 
thought, her fine discrimination of character, and daring felicity 
of illustration. I am here alluding more particularly' to her 
Characteristics of Women; but then there are the Female 
Sovereigns, the Beauties of Charles the Second's time, the 
Lives of the Poets, &c. &c, all directed to one noble object, the 
elevation of her sex. The Diary of An Ennuyte belongs to a 
different category, but is by no means the least interesting of 
her works. 



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p. 112. All sorts of nonsense.] — The word brimborium is 
probably taken from the French word brimborion : — " Ces pen- 
dardes-la, avec leur pommade, ont, je pense, en vie de me 
ruiner. Je ne vois partout que blancs d'ceufs, lait virginal, et 
mille autres brimborions que je ne connois point."' — Les Pre- 
cieuses Ridicules, Act i. sc. 4. 

p. 114. Besides, he would not else have been so impudent.] — 
The lower classes in England have also an awkward habit of 
associating a more than ordinary degree of shamelessness or 
profligacy with gentility. The gamekeeper of a lady of rank 
in Hampshire once came to tell her that a gentleman was 
sporting over her best preserves, and refused to listen to re- 
monstrances. " A gentleman," said her ladyship, " how do 
you know him to be a gentleman?" " Because," was the 
reply, "he keeps fourteen horses and another man's wife." 

p. 115. Am I breathing an enchanted atmosphere.] — 

" 'Tis her breathing that 
Perfumes the chamber thus." — 

Cymbeline, Act ii. sc. 2. 

There is also some analogy between this scene and La Nou- 
velle Heloise, vol. i. lett. 54, though Faust's feelings in his mis- 
tress's chamber are very different from St. Preux's. 

p. 117. It feels so close, so sultry here.] — 

" Now, by my life, this day grows wondrous hot; 
Some airy devil hovers in the sky, 
And pours down mischief." 

King John, Act iii. sc. 2. 

p. 117. There was a king in Thule.] — Many of the songs in 
Faust, this amongst others, were not originally written for it. 
Goethe mentions in his Memoirs that he sung this song with 
considerable applause in a social meeting. 



( 270 ) 



p. 128. I would change rings with you myself.'] — In some 
countries of Germany the bridegroom, instead of placing the 
ring on the finger of the bride, gives one to her and receives 
one in return. 

p. 129. Two witnesses.] — Alluding to the rule of the civil 
law, which forms the basis of all the German systems. — Unius 
responsio testis omnino non audiatur. — (CW. 4, 20, 9.) 

p. 140. I tremble all over.] — The best translation of Mich 
uberlduffs would be by an expression which I once heard a 
pretty little friend of mine employ, though I am not aware that 
there is classical authority for it: — " I felt a sort of all-overish- 
ness." 

p. 144. And when the clear moon &c. goes up.] — 

" The moving moon went up the sky 
And no where did abide ; 
Softly she was going up 
And a star or two beside." 

Coleridge, Ancient Mariner. 

p. 144. Fro?n the wall-like rocks, from the damp under- 
wood.] — 

"How divine, 
The liberty for frail, for mortal man, 
To roam at large among unpeopled glens 
And mountainous retirements, only trod 
By devious footsteps; regions consecrate 
To oldest time ! and, reckless of the storm 
That keeps the raven quiet in her nest, 
Be as a presence or a motion — one 
Among the many there; and, while the mists 
Flying, and rainy vapours, call out shapes 
And phantoms from the craigs and solid earth, 



( 271 ) 



As fast as a musician scatters sounds 
Out of an instrument; and while the streams" — 

Excursion. 



"And he, with many feelings, many thoughts, 
Made up a meditative joy, and found 
Religious meanings in the forms of nature." 

Coleridge, Sybylline Leaves, p. 65. 



p. 147. Like a snow-flushed rivulet.~\ — " Like a rock in the 
mid-channel of a river swoln by a sudden rain-flush from the 
mountains, &c." — Coleridge's Aids to Reflection, p. 79. 



p. 147. Were I a bird, fyc] — The song alluded to is the fol- 
lowing : — 

" Wenn ich ein Voglein war, 
Und auch zwei Fliiglein h'att, 
Flog ich zu dir ; 
Weils aber nicht kann seyn, 
Bleib ich all hier. 

" Bin ich gleich weit von dir, 
Bin ich doch im Schlaf bei dir, 
Und red mit dir; 
Wenn ich erwachen thu, 
Bin ich allein. 

" Es vergeht keine stund in der Nacht, 
Da mein Herze nicht erwacht, 
Und an dich gedenkt, 
Dass du mir viel tausendmal 
Dein Herze geschenkt." 

(Herder's Volkslieder, b. i. p. 67 — 
Wunderhorn, part i. p. 231.) 



( 272 ) 



p. 147. One while fairly outwept.~] — 

" as with no stain 
She faded like a cloud that has outwept its rain." 

Shelley, Adonais. 

" Lo pianto stesso li pianger non lasciar." 

Dante, Inf. canto 33. 

" There very weeping suffers not to weep." 

Cary's Translation. 

" Their very tears forbid their tears to flow." 

Wright's Translation. 

p. 148. The twin pair, which feed among roses.'] — " Thy two 
breasts are like two young roes that are twins, which feed 
among the lilies." — (Song of Solomon, ch. iv. v. 5.) " Je ne 
vous conseille pas de traduire cela litteralement. On jeterait 
les hauts cris. C'est a, la responsabilite du poete. L'esprit 
malin semble vouloir insinuer que les saints meme, et les 
sages, tels que Solomon, n'etaient pas insensibles aux attraits 
de la volupte." — (M. de Schlegel.) This really kind warning 
came too late. Besides, I wish to give as exact a transcript of 
the mind of Goethe as exhibited in Faust as I can. A 
German gentleman of taste resists Schlegel's authority on 
this matter, and will have it that nothing further than rosy 
lips is alluded to. I cannot agree with him, but I enter his 
protest. 

p. 149. And all her homely cares embraced within that little 
world.~] — 

" Flies from her home, the humble sphere 
Of all her joys and sorrows here; 
Her father's house of mountain-stone, 
And by a mountain vine o'ergrown. 



( 273 ) 



At such an hour, in such a night, 
So calm, so clear, so heavenly bright, 
Who would have seen, and not confess'd 
It looked as all within were blest." 

Rogers, Jacqueline. 

p. 153. I have no name for it.~\—" The Persian poet Saadi of 
Schiraz says, according to Herder : — ' Who knows God, is silent ;' 
and Valzer (mentioned ante, p. 261) adds, * In quoillud unum 
dolendum videtur, quod tacendo hominum pietatem parum 
juvare potest theologus.'" — (Ueber Goethe's Faust, Leipsig, p. 
118.) 

p. 153. Are we not looking into each other s eyes.~] — 

" when full of blissful sighs, 

They sat and looked into each other's eyes." 

Lalla Rookh. 

"They looked up to the sky, whose floating glow 
Spread like a rosy ocean, vast and bright : 
They gazed upon the glittering sea below, 
Whence the broad moon rose circling into sight; 
They heard the wave's splash, and the wind so low, 
And saw each other's dark eyes darting light 
Into each other." 

Don Juan. 

Cl'archen. " Lass mich schweigen ! lass mich dich halten. 
Lass mich dir in die Augen sehen ; alles darin finden, Trost und 
HofFnung, und Freude und Kummer." — Egmont, Act hi. 

p. 153. Name is sound and stnoke.~\ — In most of the edi- 
tions preceding the collected edition of Goethe's Works com- 
menced in 1828, it stands: — Nature is sound and smoke. 

p. 154. The man you have with you is hateful to me SfC.~\ — 
Margaret's intuitive apprehension of Mephistopheles is copied 

T 



( 274 ) 



from an incident mentioned in Goethe's Memoirs : — u I could 
scarcely rest till I had introduced my friend Merk at Lotta's 
(the original of Werther's Charlotte), but his presence in this 
circle did me no good; for, like Mephistopheles, go where he 
will, he will hardly bring a blessing with him." Goethe always 
called this friend " Mephistopheles Merk," and gives a strange 
account of the mingled goodness and devilishness of his dispo- 
sition. The same feeling is beautifully described in the fol- 
lowing lines by Coleridge : — 

"And yet Sarolta, simple, inexperienced, 
Could see him as he was, and often warn'd me ! 
Whence learn'd she this? O she was innocent! 
And to be innocent is nature's wisdom! 
The hedge-dove knows the prowlers of the air, 
Feared soon as seen, and flutters back to shelter. 
And the young steed recoils upon his haunches, 
The never-yet-seen adder's hiss first heard. 
O surer than suspicion's hundred eyes 
Is that fine sense, which to the pure in heart, 
By mere oppugnancy of their own goodness, 
Reveals th' approach of evil." 

Zapotya. 

Sir Walter Scott had probably one or both of these passages 
in his mind when he wrote the following : — " The innocent Alice, 
without being able to discover what was wrong either in the 
scenes of unusual luxury with which she was surrounded, or in 
the manners of her hostess, which, both from nature and policy, 
were kind and caressing, felt nevertheless an instinctive appre- 
hension that all was not right, a feeling in the human mind, 
allied, perhaps, to that sense of danger which animals exhibit 
when placed in the vicinity of the natural enemies of their race, 
and which makes birds cower when the hawk is in the air, and 
beasts tremble when the tiger is abroad in the desert. There 
was a heaviness at her heart which she could not dispel, and 
the few hours which she had already spent at Chiffinch's, were 



( 275 ) 



like those passed in a prison by one unconscious of the cause 
or event of his captivity." — Peveril of the Peak, vol. iii. p. 6, 
last edit. 

p. 157. Full of her faith, #c.]— The words :— 

Der ganz allein 

Ihr selig machend ist, 

have here the same meaning as in Dr. Carove's celebrated 
work, Ueber Alleiuseligmachende Kirche ; i. e. the Catholic 
Church, which commonly arrogates this title to itself, 

p. 159. We will strew cut straw before her door.'] — This 
alludes to a German custom something analogous to Skimmer- 
ton riding in this country. It consisted in strewing cut or 
chopped straw before the door of a bride whose virtue is sus- 
pected, the day before the wedding. The garland (like the 
snood) is a token of virginity, and a ruined maiden is said to 
have lost her garland. 

Bessy's want of charity reminds one of the well-known lines 
in The Giaour: — 

" No : gayer insects fluttering by 
Ne'er droop the wing o'er those that die, 
And lovelier things have mercy shown 
To every failing but their own, 
And every woe a tear can claim, 
Except an erring sister's shame. 

p. 161. Zwinger. ~\ — Zwinger is untranslatable, and I find a 
good deal of doubt existing as to the meaning of the term. 
" Zwinger (says a learned correspondent) from Zwingen, — to 
subdue, is a name given to castles found in some of the free 
towns, and formerly held by an imperial governor. They are 
often in the middle of the town, and have a passage wherein a 
devotional image with a lamp has occasionally been placed, not 
expressly for the sake of devotion, but to lighten up a dark 
passage; Margaret wishes to be unobserved, and prefers this 

t 2 



( 276 ) 

lonely spot to the chapel." This account was confirmed to 
me in conversation hy Retzsch. In his Outline of the scene, 
Margaret is represented kneeling before an image of the Virgin 
placed in a niche close to a church. I add a passage from Mr. 
Downes' Letters from Continental Countries upon this subject: 
" On our way (from Goslar to the Rammelsberg) we visited 
the Zivinger, an old tower of three stories, containing a saloon 
for masquerades. The walls are so thick as to admit of a 
small side apartment adjoining one of the windows. A scene 
in Goethe's Faust is entitled Zwinger ; it is perhaps identical 
with this."— Vol. ii. lett. 45. 

p. 161. Mater Dolorosa.'] — The following lines of Manzoni 
(a great favourite of Goethe's by the way) in his hymn to the 
Virgin, might be supposed to have been suggested by this 
scene : — 

" La femminetta nel tuo sen regale 
La sua spregiata lagrima depone, 
E a te, beata, della sua immortal e 
Alma gli afFarri espone: 
A te, che i prieghi ascolti e le querele 
Non come suole il mondo, ne degT imi 
E de' grandi il dolor col suo crudele 
Discernimento estimi." 

p. 164. Can that be the treasure rising §c.~] — This alludes to 
a superstitious belief that the presence of a treasure is indicated 
by a blue light or flame, though only I believe to the initiated. 
The same allusion occurs in the Intermezzo, ante, p. 195; and 
also in a little poem by Goethe, called Der Schatzgrdber : — 

" Und ich sah ein Licht von weitem, 
Und est kam gleich einem Sterne." — 

In the Antiquary, too, in the scene between Sir Arthur War- 
dour and Dousterswivel in the ruins of St. Ruth, it is said, 
" No supernatural light burst forth from below to indicate the 
subterranean treasury." — Vol. i. p. 317. 



( 277 ) 



p. 164. Lionthalers.~] — The Lowenthaler is a coin first struck 
by the Bohemian Count Schlick, from the mines of Joachims- 
Thai in Bohemia; the finest in the years 1518 — 1529, under 
Ludovick, the first king of Hungary and Bohemia. The one 
side represents the fork-tailed lion, with the inscription — Lud- 
wig I. D. G. Rex Bohm. The reverse, the full-length image 
of St. John, with the arms of Schlick. — (Kohlers Muntz-Belus- 
tigungen.) 

p. 165. What are you doing, here, Catherine?] — This song 
is obviously imitated from Ophelia's— {Hamlet, Act 4, Scene 
5.) 

p. 165. Rat-catcher.'] — 

" Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?" 

Romeo and Juliet, Act 3, Scene 1. 

The common people in Germany believe (or believed) that 
rat-catchers, by whistling or piping a peculiar note, could 
compel the rats to follow them wherever they chose. — (Deutsche 
Sagen, No. 245.) This accounts for the general application of 
the term to a serenading seducer. 

p. 166. Out with your toasting-iron.] — .• 
" Put up thy sword betime, 
Or I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron, 
That you shall think the devil is come from hell." 

King John, Act 4, Scene 3, 

The German word Flederwisch, literally goosewing, is a cant 
term for a sword. 

p. 166. I am perfectly at home with the police, but should 
find it hard to clear scores with the criminal courts.] — Blut- 
bann is an old name for criminal jurisdiction in the general 
sense. The distinction between Polizei-'uberlretungen and 
Verbrechen, to which the above passage might otherwise be 



( 278 ) 



supposed to refer, was introduced into the German systems 
in imitation of the French code ; consequently not till long after 
the period at which this scene was written. — (See Mitter- 
maier's Slrafverfahren,ipip. 10 and 16.) To make matters sure, 
I referred both Blutbann and Blutschuld to M. Mittermaier 
himself. 

p. 168. When first Shame fye.~] — 

" The while some one did chaunt this lovely lay : 

Ah see, whose fair thing dost fain to see 
The springing flower the image of thy day, 

Ah see the virgin rose, how sweetly she 
Dost first peep forth with bashful modesty, 

The fairer seems, the less ye see her may ; 
Lo, see soon after, how more bold and free 

Her bared bosom she doth broad display ; 

Lo, see soon after, how she fades and falls away." 

Spenser 

p. 170. Evil spirit behind Margaret.^ — 

" I looked to heaven and tried to pray, 
But or ever a prayer had gusht, 
A wicked whisper came, and made 
My heart as dry as dust." 

Rime of the Ancient Mariner. 

p. 170. And under thy heart stirs it not quickening now?~\ — 

" She held within 
A second principle of life, which might 
Have dawned a fair and sinless child of sin." 

Don Juan, Canto iv. 

It is common in Germany to say, Sie tragi das Pfand der 
Liebe unter ihrem Herzen — " She bears the pledge of love 
under her heart." Thus Schiller in Die Kindesmorderin, — 
" Nicht das Knablein unter meinem Herzen?" Shelley also 
has the very expression :• — 



( 279 ) 



" Methought I was about to be a mother; 

Month after month went by, and still I dream'd 

That we should soon be all to one another, 

I and my child ; and still new pulses seem'd 

To beat beside my heart, and still I deem'd 

There was a babe within ; and when the rain 

Of winter through the rifted cavern stream'd, 

Methought, after a lapse of lingering pain, 

I saw that lovely shape, which near my heart had lain." 

The Revolt of Islam, Canto vii. 

p. 171. I feel as if the organ 4*c] — There is a passage 
somewhere in Goethe 's works, in which he describes the Dies 
ira as having a similar effect upon himself. I should feel 
much obliged to any one who would refer me to it. Mr. 
Taylor says, that Sir W. Scott borrowed a hint or two from 
this scene for The Lay of the Last Minstrel. I suppose he 
alludes to the thirtieth Stanza of the last Canto : — 

" And ever in the office close 
The hymn of intercession rose : 
And far the echoing aisles prolong 
The awful burthen of the song — 
Dies irag, Dies ilia, 
Sol vet saeclum in favilla— 
While the pealing organ rung." — 

p. 172. Neighbour, your smelling-bottle. ~] — Mr. Taylor of 
Norwich, the father of German literature in this country, 
translates Fldschen (literally, little bottle) dram-bottle, and the 
writer in the Quarterly (quoted in my Preface) has phial. These 
are high authorities, but I have never yet met with a German 
who agreed with them. 

p. 173. May-Day Night. The Hartz Mountains. District 
of Schirke and Elend.] — Walpurgis is the name of the female 
saint who converted the Saxons to Christianity, May-Day 



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Night is dedicated to her. The Hartz is the most northerly 
range of mountains in Germany, and run to a considerable 
extent; comprising (according to the Conversations Lexicon) 
about 1350 square miles, mostly within the district of Hanover. 
The Brocken or Blocksberg is the highest summit of the chain, 
on the top of which all the witches of Germany hold an annual 
meeting. Schirke and Elend are two villages on or near the 
Brocken. As these mountains are now a favourite resort of 
tourists, it is useless to add a minute description of them, which 
there is a good guide-book to supply."* Mr. Downes, also, in 
his Letters from Continental Countries, has given a con amore 
description of the localities; and Heine has supplied some 
curious particulars in the first volume of his Reisebilder. Dr. 
Schubart says, that, just as the Greeks had their Olympus, the 
Jews their Sinai, the Spaniards their Montserrat, the Indians 
the Himelaya mountains, even so have the Germans their 
Blocksberg. In the case of the Blocksberg, however, there are 
assignable causes for the superstitions associated with it, in 
addition to that which the wildness of the mountain affords. 
On the first establishment of Christianity, the Druids are said 
to have taken refuge on it; and the lights and noises attendant 
on the celebration of their rites were mistaken by the surround- 
ing peasantry for sorcery. In one of Goethe's minor poems, 
Die erste Walpurgisnucht, spiritedly translated by Mr. Anster,f 
the effects of this belief are vividly pourtrayed. Another 
cause is to be found in a phenomenon thus described by the 
Author of Waverley. " The solitudes of the Hartz forest in 
Germany, but especially the mountains called Blocksberg, or 
rather Brockenburg, are the chosen scenes for the tales of 
witches, demons, and apparitions. The occupation of the 
inhabitants, who are either miners or foresters, is of a kind that 

* See Gotschalk's Taschenbuch fur Reisende in den Hartz. 

t See Downes' Letters, (Lett. 45), and the Dublin University 
Review, (No. 3), where the translation is introduced with a modesty, 
which makes one suspect the reviewer to be Mr. Anster himself. 
Any one else, I am sure, could not have refrained from praising it. 
As to the theory on which the poem is based, see the Correspon- 
dence hetween Goethe and Zelter, vol. ii. p. 49. 



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renders them peculiarly prone to superstition, and the natural 
phenomena which they witness in pursuit of their solitary or 
subterraneous profession, are often set down by them to the 
interference of goblins or the power of magic. Among the 
various legends current in that wild country, there is a favourite 
one, which supposes the Hartz to be haunted with a kind of 
tutelar demon, in the shape of a wild man, of huge stature, his 
head wreathed with oak-leaves, and his middle cinctured with 
the same, bearing in his hand a pine torn up by the roots. It 
is certain that many profess to have seen such a form traversing, 
with huge strides, in a line parallel to their own course, the 
opposite ridge of a mountain, when divided from it by a narrow 
glen; and indeed the fact of the apparition is so generally 
admitted, that modern scepticism has only found refuge by 
ascribing it to optical deception." — The Antiquary, vol. i. p. 
249. 

This optical deception, however, admits of a very simple 
explanation : — " When the rising sun (and according to analogy, 
the case will be the same at the setting) throws his rays over 
the Brocken upon the body of a man standing opposite to fine 
light clouds floating around or hovering past him, he needs 
only fix his eye steadily upon them, and in all probability he 
will see the singular spectacle of his own shadow extending to 
the length of five or six hundred feet, at the distance of about 
two miles before him." — (Hibbert on Apparitions, p. 450, note. 
Brewster's Letters on Natural Magic, Lett. 6.) In Mr. Gillies' 
tasteful collection of German stories, there is a very interesting 
one called The First of May; or, Walburgas Night. Goethe's 
little poem called Die Harz-reise has no perceptible connection 
with the Hartz. 

p. 175. Through the stones, through the turf, brook and 
brookling hurry down.~\ — Heine's description of the springs on 
the Blocksberg, exactly corresponds with the poetical descrip- 
tion : — " Here and there on rushes the water, silver-clear, 
trickles among the stones, and bathes the naked roots and 
fibres. Again, in many places, the water spouts more freely 



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from out of rocks and roots, and forms little cascades. There 
is such a strange murmuring and rustling — the birds sing broken 
snatches of languishing songs — the trees whisper as with thou- 
sands of maidens' tongues ; as with thousands of maidens' eyes 
the rare mountain flowers gaze upon us, and stretch out 
towards us their singularly broad, conically forked leaves," &c. 
&c. (Reisebilder, vol. i. p. 173. See also his account of the 
rise of the Use, p. 223.) 

p. 175. And the ?*oots like snakes 4~c.] — Here again Heine's 
description corresponds : "In consequence of the rocky nature 
of the ground, the roots are in many places unable to penetrate 
it, and wind, snake-like, over the huge blocks of granite, which 
lie scattered every where about, like huge play-balls, for the 
unearthly revellers to throw at each other on May-day night." 

p. 176. It scatters itself at once.] — In my first edition I 
followed Shelley's example in departing from the text, and 
translated vereinzelt sich — masses itself, under the notion of 
making the contrast more complete. I was clearly wrong, for 
the next line — There sparks are glittering near, fyc. — shows 
clearly that the literal version was the only proper one. 

p. 177. The witch s, the he-goat s.] — In Aris- 

tophanic language — the witch TrepUrat, the he-goat K$v*#ga. 

p. 1 80. How the storm-blast, <§"c] — 

" And now the Storm-Blast came, and he 
Was tyrannous and strong ; 
He struck with his o'ertaking wings, 
And chased us south along." 

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. 

I shall give Adelung's explanation of Windsbraut : " Winds- 
braut, ein im Hochdeutschen veraltetes Wort, einen Sturm zu 
bezeichnen, welches nach Apost. 27. 14. vorkommt; auch in 



( 283 ) 



der Schweiz und andern Oberdeutschen Gegenden iiblich ist." 
I subjoin the scriptural passage referred to : 

" Nicht lange aber darnach erhob sich wider ihr Vornehmen 
eine Windsbraut, die man nennete Nordost." — (C. 27. v. 14. 
German Bible.) 

" But not long after there arose against it a tempestuous 
wind, called Euroclydon." — (lb. English Bible.) 

p. 177. Sir Urian.] — This is a common name for the devil 
in Germany. Voland (post, p. 171)_is, I believe, one of the 
names of Beelzebub. 

p. 177. By Ilsenstein.~] — Ilsenstein is a high granite rock 
on the Brocken, so called from the brook Use, which, according 
to tradition, was originally a princess. Felsensee (rock-lake) 
is another of the localities. 

p. 180. Make room, sweet people.] — Probably an allusion 
to your most sweet voices, in Coriolanus. 

p. 180. Many a riddle must be there untied.'] — Some of the 
German critics express considerable disappointment that Goethe 
did not give these riddles with the devil's solution of them; a 
very reasonable expectation, it must be owned. 

p. 182. Now that I ascend the witch-mountain for the last 
time.] — " And because the contradictions of life and thought 
have reached their highest pitch, but at the same time have 
found their end and solution, does Mephistopheles convince 
himself that he has ascended the Blocksberg for the last time?" 
— Ueber Goethe's Faust, Leipzig. 

p. 183. There is no dagger here fyc] — I am inclined to 
think that Goethe must have read Burn's Tam-O'Shanter 
before writing this : — 

" Coffins stood round like open presses, 
That shaw'd the dead in their last dresses ; 



( 284 ; 



And by some devilish cantrip slight, 
Each in his cauld hand held a light, — 
By which heroic Tarn was able 
To note upon the haly table, 
A murderer's banes in gibbit aims; 
Twa span-lang, wee, unchristen'd bairns;. 
A thief, new cutted frae a rape, 
Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape; 
Five tomahawks wi' bluid red-rusted; 
Five scymitars, wi' murder crusted ; 
A garter, which a babe had strangled ; 
A knife, a father's throat had mangled, 
Whom his ain son o' life bereft. 
The gray hairs yet stack to the heft." 

Unless the dates be found to contradict the supposition, I 
should also suspect Goethe's poem of Der Todtentanz to be 
borrowed from Tam-O'Shanter. 

p. 184. Lilith.'] — I have received several suggestions as to 
Lilith. The following passage, (for which I have to thank 
Dr. Rosen,) extracted from Gesenius's Commentary on Isaiah, 
(Leipz. 1821, 8vo. vol. i. p. 916,) is the fullest and most satis- 
factory : — 

" Lilith, Pp^l^ (nocturna), is, in the popular belief of the 
Hebrews, a female spectre in the shape of a finely-dressed 
woman, which, in particular, lies in wait for and kills children, 
like the Lamiae and Striges amongst the Romans. — (See 
Horace, Art. Poet. 340; Ovid, Fast. vi. 123). This is the 
Rabbinical account, and the superstition appears old, as it is 
to be found in the same form, and with little variation, amongst 
almost all other people. More recently they themselves have 
brought it into a kind of system, and turned Lilith into a wife 
of Adam's, on whom he begot demons, and who still has power 
to lie with men and kill children who are not protected by 
amulets, with which the Jews of a still later period supply 
themselves as a protection against her. — (S. Buxtorf, Lexicon. 



( 285 ) 



Talmudic. p. 1140; Eisenmenger's Entdecktes Judenthum, 
vol. ii. p. 413 et seg.)" See also Brown's Jewish Antiquities, 
vol, ii. p. 273. 

Burton tells us: " The Talmudists say that Adam had a 
wife called Lilis before he married Eve, and of her he begat 
nothing but devils." — Anat. of Melancholy, Part 1. Sect. 2. 
Subs. 2. 

At the end of a learned etymological commentary on the 
word Lullaby in the Encyclopaedia Metropolitana, I find the 
following mention of Lilith, quoted as an MS. note on Skinner: 
" Christiani quondam a Judasis edocti, Daemonem esse quan- 
dam maleficam, nomine Lilith, quae infantes recenter natos 
necare aut saltern supponere consuevit, atque adeo nutrices 
infantibus dormitantibus cantilare solitas Lilla, abi, abi! unde 
nostrum Lullaby." The following, communicated to me 
through a friend, is an ingenious attempt to explain why Lilith 
is called Adam's first wife : 

" Lil in Hebrew means Night, and my own conjecture 
resolves Adam's bigamy as follows: Darkness (or Night) 
necessarily preceded the foundation of Light, and on the crea- 
tion of the latter, may be thought to have struggled for supe- 
riority with her. After she was beaten out, and not till then 
did Adam marry Eve. But I am afraid the relative chronology 
of the Mosaic creation — I mean, the order in which the creation 
of Light and of Adam take place — is fatal to this hypothesis." 
Dr. Schubart's remark on the passage is: " Amongst the 
Blocksberg spectres, one strikes Faust, which Mephistopheles 
names Lilith and distinguishes as Adam's first wife. Thus 
Rabbinical tradition and Judaism furnish their contribution to 
the Blocksberg. Dangerous as it generally may be to fall into 
the hands of one of the race of Abraham, the fair one does not 
dissemble her dangerous usurious extraction in the winding and 
braiding of her hair, with which she holds fast the young men 
whom she catches." 

Herder, in his Dichtungen am der Vorwelt, represents Adam 
as not marrying Eve until after Lilis had rejected him on ac- 
count of his earthly extraction. 



( 286 ) 



Apropos of Lilith's hair, I think it is Miss Letitia Hawkins 
who calls Eve an overgrown baby, with nothing to recommend 
her, but her submission and her fine hair. 

p. 185. Procktophantasmist.~] — The person intended is now 
generally understood to be Nicolai of Berlin, a writer who 
once enjoyed a considerable reputation in Germany, and 
through the medium of the Allgemeine Deutsche Bibliothek, a 
periodical work established t by him about 1765 in co-operation 
with Lessing and Mendelsohn, exercised for nearly twenty 
years a widely -spread influence upon its literature. The seve- 
rity of his criticisms, written in a cold prosaic spirit, involved 
him in many disputes; amongst others, with Wieland, Fichte, 
Herder, Lavater, and Goethe. He had also given offence to 
Goethe, by publishing a parody on The Sufferings of Werther, 
entitled " The Joys of Werter," in which Werther is made to 
shoot himself with a pistol loaded with chicken's blood, and re- 
covers and lives happily. Goethe judiciously carried on the 
joke by writing a continuation, in which Werther, though alive, 
is represented as blinded by the blood, and bewailing his ill 
fortune in not being able to see the beauties of Charlotte. Goethe 
says that his reply, though only circulated in manuscript, de- 
prived Nicolai of all literary consideration. He speaks of him 
as a man of talent, but incapable of allowing merit in any thing 
which went the least beyond his own contracted notions of ex- 
cellence : — 

" Was schiert mich der Berliner Bann 
Geschmackler-Pfaffenwesen ! 
Und wer mich nicht verstehen kann 
Der lerne besser lesen." — Goethe. 

"To the very last," says Mr. Carlyle, " Nicolai never could 
persuade himself that there was anything in Heaven or earth that 
was not dreamt of in his philosophy. He was animated with 
a fierce zeal against Jesuits ; in this, most people thought him 
partly right; but when he wrote against Kant's philosophy, 
without comprehending it, and judged of poetry as he judged 



( 287 ) 



of Brunswick mum, by its utility, many people thought him 
wrong. A man of such spirited habitudes is now by the 
Germans called a Philister, Philistine. Nicolai earned for 
himself the painful pre-eminence of being Erz-Philistine, 
Arch- Philistine." — (German Romance, vol. iv. p. 15.) 

In 1791, some causes which violently agitated his mind pro- 
duced such an effect on his nerves, that for several weeks he 
appeared to himself continually surrounded with phantoms, 
whom he distinctly knew, however, to be mere creations of his 
imagination. An account of his malady, drawn up by the 
sufferer himself, is quoted by Dr. Hibbert, (Theory of Appari- 
tions,) and may be seen in Nicholson's Philosophical Journal, 
vol. vi. p. 161. Bleeding by leeches was one of the remedies 
resorted to ; this explains the subsequent allusion to them. He 
died in 1811. 

One phrase put in the mouth of this character, es spukt in 
Tegel,— has sadly puzzled both translators and commentators. 
Shelley translates Tegel, pond, putting it in italics ; and Dr. 
Schubart says that it is compounded of Egel (a leech) and the 
diabolical T, which is the initial letter of Devil (Teufel) in 
German. Mr. Stapfer calls Procktophantasmist (which, after 
terming it untranslatable, he translates L' Ordonnateur du Broc- 
keri) " le representant de la philosophie materialiste du siecle der- 
nier," and translates es spukt in Tegel — le creuset nest pas vide 
e ncore ; and Mr. Gerard adopts the same reading substantially : 
et cependant le creuset est toujours aussi plein. Lord Francis 
Gower and M. le Comte Sainte-Aulaire, skip it altogether. 
I believe I can clear up the difficulty. Tegel is a small 
place about eight or ten miles from Berlin. In the year 
1799, the inhabitants of Berlin, who pride themselves very 
highly on their enlightenment, were fairly taken in by the 
story of a ghost, said to haunt the dwelling of a Mr. Schulz 
at Tegel. No less than two commissions of distinguished 
persons set forth to investigate the character of the apparition. 
The first betook themselves to the house on the 13th of 
September, 1797, waited from eleven at night till one in the 
morning, heard a noise, and saw nothing. The second was 



( 288 ) 



more fortunate, for one of the members rushed with such pre- 
cipitation towards the place from whence the noise proceeded, 
that the ghost was under the necessity of decamping in a hurry, 
leaving the instruments with which he made the noise (very 
clumsy inartificial contrivances) as spolia opima to the conque- 
rors. Thus began and ended the Tegel ghost's career, who 
however fully rivalled our Cock-lane ghost in celebrity, and 
gave rise to a good deal of paper as well as verbal controversy. 
This statement is taken from an account published in 1798, in 
8vo. with the appropriate motto: — Parturiunt martes, nascitur 
ridiculus mus. Dr. Hitzig (to whom I am indebted for it) 
proposes the following interpretation : — 

" We Berlin folks (enlightened by me Nicolai) are so wise 
(so free from prejudice) and Tegel is haunted notwithstanding 
(we notwithstanding suffer our heads to be turned by a ghost 
story, so stupid as this of Tegel.)" 

Tegel is now principally known as the residence of Wil- 
helm von Humboldt (the brother of the far-famed traveller), 
one of the most distinguished men that Germany can boast. 
His translation of the Agamemnon of JEschylus is esteemed 
the very perfection of the art; it is said that he was twenty 
years at work upon it, thus more than doubling the period of 
literary gestation prescribed by Horace. Many of M. Hum- 
boldt's letters to Schiller (see the Correspondence) are dated 
from Tegel. 

Shelley and M. Stapfer say Brocktophantasmist. This alte- 
ration destroys the etymology, which must be TLpwnroq, the part 
which (as is evident from the allusion to the leeches) is sup- 
posed to have a connection with his phantasies. 

p. 186. A red mouse jumped out of her mouth.~] — " The fol- 
lowing incident occurred at a nobleman's seat at Thiiringen, 
about the beginning of the seventeenth century. The servants 
were paring fruit in the room, when a girl becoming sleepy, 
left the others and laid herself down, apart but not far off, on a 
bank, to repose. After she had lain still a short time, a little 
red mouse crept out of her mouth, which was open. Most of 



( 289 ) 



the people saw it, and showed it to one another. The mouse 
ran hastily to the open window, crept through, and remained a 
short space without. A forward waiting- maid, whose curiosity 
was excited by what she saw, spite of the remonstrances of the 
rest, went up to the inanimate maiden, shook her, and moved 
her to another place a little further off, and then left her. 
Shortly afterwards the mouse returned, ran to the former fami- 
liar spot, where it had crept out of the maiden's mouth, ran up 
and down as if it could not find its way and was at a loss what 
to do, and then disappeared. The maiden, however, was dead 
and remained dead. The forward waiting-maid repented of 
what she had done in vain. In the same establishment, a lad 
had before then been often tormented by the sorceress and 
could have no peace; this ceased on the maiden's death." — 
(Deutsche Sagen, No. 247.) 

The same work contains a story of two maidens who were 
accustomed to dispatch their souls on evil errands in the shape 
of smoke, and a story of a maiden whose soul used to leave her 
in the shape of a cat (Nos. 248, 249) ; but I find nothing about 
a grey mouse. There is another mode of explaining these allu- 
sions which has reached me from several quarters, but as it is 
not remarkable for delicacy, I do not think it necessary to say 
more than that I am aware of it. 

p. 187. The blood of man thickens at its chill look.'] — 

" Her lips were red, her looks were free, 
Her locks were yellow as gold, 
Her skin was as white as leprosy, 
The Night-Mair Life-in-Death was she 
Who thicks man's blood with cold." 

Coleridge, Rime of the Ancient Mariner. 

The term Idol must be understood in the sense of Eidolon. 

p. 188. When I find you upon the Blocksbcrg.~] — To wish a 
man upon the Blocksberg — Ich wunsche den Kerl auf dem 
v 



( 290 ) 



Blocksberg — is like wishing him at the devil, in English. This 
speech, therefore, has in German the effect of a pun. 

p. 189. The Intermezzo.'] — It is quite impossible to convey to 
the English reader more than a very faint notion of this scene. 
The effect is produced almost exclusively by satirical allusions, 
quaintly rhymed, to things and persons which are not generally 
known even in Germany itself ; though no one who has ever 
witnessed the delight with which Germans belonging to the 
inner circle of educated society dwell upon it, can doubt that it 
possesses merit of a high order in its way. It is impossible to 
explain all the allusions without rambling far beyond the limits 
of a note. I must, therefore, confine myself to such particulars 
as admit of compression. 

The Midsummer Night's Dream and Wieland's Oberon have 
furnished the basis of the first seven or eight stanzas and some 
of the last. 

Mieding, mentioned in the first couplet, was scene-painter 
to the Weimar Theatre. Goethe has immortalised him by a 
little poem on his death : 

" Wie! Mieding todt? erschallt bis miter's Dach 
Das hohle Haus, von Echo kehrt ein Ach ! 
Die Arbeit stockt, die Hand wird jedem schwer, 
Der Leim wird kali, die Furbe Jiiesst nicht mchr. — " 

There are other lines in the poem, however, which would rather 
lead me to suppose him stage-manager. He is mentioned by 
During (p. 198). 

The Inquisitive Traveller is Nicolai; and the allusion to the 
stiff man smelling after Jesuits is to him. He had written 
Travels full of the flattest, stalest, most unwearied and wearying 
denunciations of popery and all things and persons associated 
in his imagination (if he had an imagination) therewith. 

I have been told that the words put into the mouth of the 
northern artist are intended as a quiz on the style of expression 
affected by the German artists of the day, but I rather think 



( 291 ) 



they allude to Goethe's own Italian Journey, which might be 
almost said to have revolutionised his mind. A distinguished 
German critic thinks that Fernow is the person alluded to. 

The Gods of Greece — Die G otter Griechenlands — is the 
title of a well-known poem of Schiller's, which somewhat scan- 
dalised the pious people of his day. Some useful notes upon it 
are contained in Klattowsky's Manual. 

The Purist is said to typify a school of critics who affected 
great zeal for purity of expression, and strict attention to costume, 
upon the stage. 

The Xenien, as is well known, is the name given by Goethe 
and Schiller to verses, mostly satirical or epigrammatical, which 
they published from time to time in co-partnership. These 
formed an important era in German literature. " A war of all 
the few good heads in the nation, with all the many bad ones, 
(says Mr. Carlyle,) began in Schiller's Musenalmanach for 1793. 
The Xenien (in another place he named the Horen along with 
them), a series of philosophic epigrams jointly by Schiller and 
Goethe, descended there unexpectedly, like a flood of ethereal 
fire, on the German literary world ; quickening all that was 
noble into new life, but visiting the ancient empire of dulness 
with astonishment and unknown pangs." The war might have 
been commenced in this manner, but the burden of maintaining 
it (as Mr. Carlyle himself half admits in another place*) certainly 
fell upon the Schlegels and Tieck, to whose admirable critical 
productions the Xenien bear about the same relation as the 
sharp-shooters bear to the regular army. But I quite agree 
with the friend just quoted, that the revolution which overthrew 
the old French (miscalled classic) school of criticism, was " a 
change originating not in individual but in universal circum- 
stances, and belongs not to Germany, but to Europe." 

The Genius of the Age and The Musaget were the names of 
literary journals edited by Hennings; who was at different 
times in controversy with the Schlegels, Schiller, and Goethe. 

* German Romance, vol. ii. p. 8. 
u 2 



( 292 ) 



Hennings is also attacked in the Xenien. One of Goethe's 
minor poems is entitled Die Musageten. 

The extent of the German Parnassus is an old joke. A few 
years since it was computed that there were no less than 
fourteen thousand living authors in Germany. Goethe wrote a 
little poem entitled Deutscher Parnass, in which he spiritedly 
apostrophises the invading crowd : 

" Ach, die Biische sind geknickt ! 
Ach, die Blumen sind erstickt ! 
Von der Sohlen dieser Brut — 
Wer begegnet ihrer Wuth?" 

The Crane is said to mean Herder, but I never heard why 
precisely. 

To the best of my information, Irrlichter means parvenus : 
and Sternschnuppe a sort of poetical Icarus, who mounts like a 
rocket and comes down like the stick. Most of the other allu- 
sions refer to well-known classes in society, or to certain sects 
or schools in metaphysical philosophy. For information as to 
the latter, I must refer the reader to Tenneman's Grundriss, 
or to Mr. Johnson's Translation of it. True, the Edinburgh 
Review has said, " Instead of being of the smallest assistance 
to the student of philosophy, the work (as translated) is only 
calculated to impede his progress, if not at once to turn him 
from the pursuit ; from beginning to end all is vague or con- 
fused, unintelligible or erroneous." But the Edinburgh Review 
is not infallible, and it would take a much worse translator than 
Mr. Johnson to destroy the utility of a work, which marks out 
all the leading epochs in philosophy, and gives minute chrono- 
logical information concerning them, with biographical notices 
of the founders and followers of the principal schools, and ample 
lists of their works. In a word, far from agreeing with the 
Reviewer that the Manual will not be of the smallest assistance 
to the student of philosophy, I know no work in English likely 
to prove half so useful to him. 

M. de Schlegel told me that the allusions in the Intermezzo 



( 29S ) 



were not present to his memory, and finding that it would cost 
him some trouble to recover the train, I did not press my re- 
quest for an explanation of them, though his very interesting 
letter on Goethe's Triumph der Empfindsamkeit, addressed to 
M. de Remusat and published in the third volume of the Theatre 
Allemand, was a powerful temptation to me. The first para- 
graph of this letter may help to explain why it is so very diffi- 
cult to write notes upon Goethe : " J'ai vecu quelques annees 
pres de Goethe (says M. de Schlegel) lorsqu'il etait dans la 
force de l'age et dans la maturite de son genie; j'ai souvent 
passe des journees entieres avec lui, et nous avons beaucoup 
cause sur ses ouvrages ; mais il n'aimait guere a donner des 
explications, eomrae aussi il n'a jamais voulu faire des prefaces." 

M. Varnhagen von Ense tells me that many more verses 
were originally composed for the Intermezzo, but suppressed. 

Goldne Hochzcit means the fiftieth anniversary of a marriage ; 
SUberne Hochzeit, the twenty-fifth. 

p. 198. Sentence-passing, unfeeling man.~\ — 
" O plead 

With famine, or wind-walking pestilence, 
Blind lightning, or the deaf sea, not with man! 
Cruel, cold, formal man." 

Shelley — The Cenci. 

p. 199. To roll before the feet, 4"C.] — This alludes to a pre- 
valent superstition, that evil spirits will sometimes place them- 
selves in the path of a foot passenger, in the shape of a dog or 
other animal, with the view of tripping him up and springing 
upon him when down. Thus Caliban, in allusion to the spirits 
set upon him by Prospero : — 

" Some time like apes, that moe and chatter at me, 
And after, bite me; then like hedge-hogs, which 
Lie tumbling in my bare-foot way." 

Tempest, Act ii. Sc. 2. 



( 294 ) 



202. What are they working — about the Ravemtone yonder ?~] 
— -Retzsch's outline represents a raised stone mound or platform, 
with a gallows at one end and a gibbet for hanging in chains at 
the other. Witches and skeletons are about, upon and over it, 
apparently engaged in some unhallowed rite. Faust is pointing 
it out to Mephistopheles with a look of interrogation, which 
Mephistopheles answers by a grim sneer. The Rabenstein, 
I believe, is so called because ravens are often seen hovering 
round it. I need hardly add that this vision, as well as that of 
Margaret with fettered feet at the end of the scene upon the 
Brocken, are intended as forebodings of her fate. 

p. 203. And her crime was a good delusion.'] — 

" Wehe! — menschlich hat diess Herz empfunden! 
Und Empfindung soil mein Richtschwert seyn! 
Weh'! vom Arm des falschen Mann's umwunden 
Schlief Luisen's Tugend ein." 

Schiller. 

p. 203. My mother, the whore, 3fc.~] — This song is founded 
on a popular German story, to be found in the Kinder-und 
Hans- Marc hen of the distinguished brothers Grimm, under the 
title of Van den Machandel-Boom, and in the English selection 
from that work (entitled German Popular Stories) under the 
title of The Juniper Tree. — The wife of a rich man, whilst 
standing under a juniper tree, wishes for a little child as white 
as snow and as red as blood ; and on another occasion expresses 
a wish to be buried under the juniper when dead. Soon after, 
a little boy as white as snow and as red as blood is born : the 
mother dies of joy at beholding it, and is buried according to 
her wish. The husband marries again, and has a daughter. 
The second wife, becoming jealous of the boy, murders him and 
serves him up at table for the unconscious father to eat. The 
father finishes the whole dish, and throws the bones under the 
table. The little girl, who is made the innocent assistant in 
her mother's villainy, picks them up, ties them in a silk hand- 



( 295 ) 

kerchief) and buries them under the juniper tree. The tree 
begins to move its branches mysteriously, and then a kind of 
cloud rises from it, a fire appears in the cloud, and out of the 
fire comes a beautiful bird, which flies about singing the fol- 
lowing song : 

" Min Moder de mi slacht't 
Min Vader de mi att, 
Min S wester de Marleenken 
Socht alle mine Beeniken, 
Un bindt sie in een syden Dook, 
Legts unner den Machandelboom ; 
Kywitt, Kywitt! ach watt en schbn Vagel bin ich!" 

The literal translation would be — 

My mother who slew me, 

My father who ate me, 

My sister Mary Anne * 

Gathers all my bones 

And binds them up in a silk handkerchief, 

Lays them under the juniper tree. 

Kywitt ! Kywitt ! ah what a beautiful bird am I ! 

The whole story is written in the same dialect as the song. 
It is to be observed, that the story does not bear out the terms 
applied to the father and mother in Margaret's song The 
author of Herold's Stimme suggests, that Margaret, like David, 
feels in her guilt the guilt of father and mother. Goethe 
probably put the coarse expression applied to the mother into 
the mouth of Margaret, upon the same principle that induced 
Shakspeare to give Ophelia her not very delicate song, — to 
pourtray more vividly the disordered condition of her mind. 

* " Marleenken ist Marianchen, Maria Annchen." — (Kinder - 
mdrchen, vol. iii. p. 70.) In the English selection it is translated 
Margery. I have also been assured that it is an abbreviation of 
Maria Helen. 



( 296 ) 



That he was not without authority for adding it, the following 
version of the fable will show: — 

" France does not possess, like Germany and Italy, a written 
popular literature, but the inhabitants of Languedoc and Pro- 
vence have had handed down to them for a period, the length 
of which it would perhaps be difficult to fix, songs and stories 
occasionally exhibiting grand and moral ideas, and always 
clothed in a picturesque and expressive dress. My mother 
had an old female domestic, who retained in her memory quite 
as many stories as the Thousand and One Nights, and delighted 
in repeating them; she would have been a worthy rival of 
the Sultana. 1 have never forgotten one of these stories, in 
which a peasant, who had lost his first wife, had married a 
second, although he was the father of two little cbildren by the 
first; the manners of the people in the land of my nativity 
condemn such unions, and a chanson never fails to serenade 
the widower or widow who contracts a second marriage. The 
step-mother of my tale is brutal, cruel, and even ferocious ; by 
means of bad treatment she occasions the death of her husband's 
little son, cuts him into pieces, and after boiling him into soup, 
she sends it to his father, who is at work in the fields and 
makes a meal of it, believing it to be a soup made of goats- 
flesh ; the sister of the little boy has been a witness of this act 
of barbarity, and it is she who, by her step-mother's order, 
carries to her father this repast, worthy of Thyestes; but 
fear of meeting with a like fate keeps her mute ; nevertheless, 
she collects the bones of her brother, buries them with care, 
and in order to mark the spot where they are deposited, she 
plants a tree, on which it is not long before a bird comes to 
sing. These are the words which the young girl fancies she 
can distinguish in his carolling : 



Ma nsairastro 
Piquo-P astro, 
M'a boulit, 
E peiboulit. 



Translation. 
Ma maratre, 
Pique-patre, 
M'a fait bouillir, 
Et rebouillir. 



( 297 ) 



Moun pairg, 


Mon pere, 


Lou laoura!i&, 


Le laboureur, 


M'a mantsat 


M'a mange 


E ronsegat : 


Et ronge : 


Ma suroto 


Ma jeune soeur, 


La Lisotw, 


La Lisette, (qui s'appelle Li- 




sette,) 


M'a plourat 


M'a pleure" 


E souspirat ; 


Et soupire ; (et a soupire) 


Tsous un albre 


Sous un aibre 


M 'a enterrat. 


M'a enterre. 


Riou, tsiou, tsiou, 


Riou, tsiou, tsiou, (imitation 




of the bird's song), 


Encaro sou'i bioii. 


Je suis encore en vie. 



" The first time I read Goethe's Faust, I was not a little sur- 
prised to find these verses almost literally translated ; it is the 
song of Gretehen, who, after drowning her child and losing her 
senses, sings it in her prison. 

" The translation annexed is a literal one of the provencal 
verses; the second verse is untranslatable, having no meaning; 
the word which Goethe has substituted for it, is one which no 
well-bred and respectable peasant, much less a female, would ever 
pronounce in the mountain of Lacaune; it is doubtless to 
avoid doing so that the author of the tale has introduced the 
words piquo-pastro, which, as I have said, have no meaning. 

" We know that Burger conceived the idea of his Lenora from 
hearing a young girl humming these words, which are repeated 
at the end of several stanzas : — 

" Die Todten reiten schnell ! " 

" We also know that Byron took the subject of the Giaour 
from a ballad sung or chaunted by a Turkish beggar. Goethe 
has, no doubt, learned the verses of Gretehen 's song from some 
Saxon peasant; btft I cannot explain how this little poem, in 
which there is nothing very remarkable, in my opinion, was 
known at the same time, so far back, in provencal, in the 



( 298 ) 



commune of Montredon, near Castres in the department of 
the Tarn, and in German in the neighbourhood of Vienna or 
Weimar. In which of these countries was it originally com- 
posed? How could it have been transported six hundred 
leagues from the place of its birth, and translated almost word for 
word in the same measure?" — (Essai sur V Hist oire Litter aire du 
MoyenAge, by M. Charpentier, who extracted the account from 
Le Globe.) This writer is much mistaken if he supposes that 
the claim to the invention of the story, lies only between the 
countries he has named. On the contrary, it may be traced 
back to classical antiquity, and appears to have been almost 
universally diffused. (See the Preface (p. 87) of the last 
edition of Warton's History of English Poetry, and the English 
Selection above-mentioned, vol. ii. p. 255.) 

I am sure I shall be doing an acceptable service to those 
who love to trace poetical analogies, by reminding them of 
Wordsworth's exquisite little poem of Ruth : — 

" God help thee, Ruth ! Such pains she had 
That she in half a year was mad, 
And in a prison housed ; 
And there she sang tumultuous songs, 
By recollection of her wrongs, 
To fearful passion roused." 

p. 204. I was fair, too, and that was my undoing.~] — 

" Trauet nicht den Rosen eurer Jugend, 
Trauet, Schwestern, M'annerschwiiren nie! 
Schonheit war die Falle meiner Tugend 
Auf der Richstatt hier verfluch' ich sie !" 

Schiller. 

Most readers will recollect Filicaja's sonnet, and the beautiful 
stanzas in Childe Harold founded on it : — 

" Italia! oh Italia! thou who hast 
The fatal gift of beauty." 

Canto 4, Stanza 42 & 43. 



( 299 ) 



p. 208. Let what is past, be past.'] — 

" Oh Mutter! Mutter! Hin ist hin! 
Verloren ist verloren ! 
Der Tod, der Tod ist mein Gewinn, 
O war' ich nie geboren ! " 

Burger, Lenore. 

p. 209. Keep the path up by the brook — over the bridge- 
info the wood — to the left where the plank is.] — 

" Half-breathless from the steep lull's edge 
They tracked the footmarks small ; 
And through the broken hawthorn-hedgo, 
And by the long stone-wall. 

And then an open field they crossed : 
The marks were still the same; 
They tracked them on, nor ever lost ; 
And to the bridge they came. 

They followed from the snowy bank 
Those footmarks, one by one, 
Into the middle of the plank ; 
And further there were none !" 

Wordsworth, Lucy Gray. 

p. 210. The wand breaks.] — The signal for the executioner 
to do his duty, is given by the breaking of a wand or staff'. 

p. 210. The blood-seat.] — " This alludes to the German 
custom of tying the unfortunate female that is to be beheaded 
on a wooden chair. Males on such melancholy occasions are 
kneeling on a little heap of sand." — (Boileau's Remarks,^. 19.) 

p. 2 1 1 . Ye Holy Hosts, range yourselves round about to guard 
me.] — 

" Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings, 
Ye heavenly guards!" 

Hamlet, Act 3, Sc. 4. 



( 300 ) 



p. 211. She in judged.'] — Some difference of opinion prevails 
as to the concluding sentences of this scene. The more poetical 
interpretation is, that Margaret dies after pronouncing the last 
words assigned to her; that the judgment of heaven is pro- 
nounced upon her as her spirit parts; that Mephistopheles 
announces it in his usual sardonic and deceitful style; that the 
voice from above makes known its real purport; and that the 
voice from within, dying away, is Margaret's spirit calling to her 
lover on its way to heaven, whilst her body lies dead upon the 
stage. This, as it appears to me, is the only mode in which 
the voice from within, dying away, can be accounted for. M. 
de Schlegel however, certainly the highest living authority on 
such matters, says: " Sie ist gerichtet, se rapporte a la sentence 
de mort prononcee par les juges; les mots suivants, Sie ist 
gerettet, au salut de son ante." I have also heard it contended 
that Sie ist gerichtet refers both to the judgment in heaven and 
to the judgment upon earth. As to the translation of the pas- 
sage, no doubt can well exist, for ridden is literally to judge, 
and is constantly used in the precise sense the above interpre- 
tation attributes to it; for instance, Die Lebendigen und die 
Todten zu richten, to judge the quick and the dead. 

The expressions used in the concluding scene of the old 
puppet drama of Faust may be referred to in support of this 
interpretation. (See post, Appendix 2.) 



ADDENDA. 



In my original Preface I hazarded an opinion that Marga- 
ret's song at the spinning-wheel, (ante, p. 150), was utterly 
untranslatable. A version which I have just received has 
shaken this opinion considerably. It runs thus : — 

" My heart is oppress 'd, 
My peace is gone ; 
I seek for rest 
And can find none. 

The grave's gloom comes o'er me, 

Where he is not ; 

The wide world before me, 

I heed it not. 

Alas ! my poor head, 
'Tis all astray ; 
Alas ! my poor sense, 
It wanders away ! 

My heart is oppress'd &c. 

I watch at the window 
To see him appear ; 
I run from my chamber 
To meet him when near. 

His lofty step, 
And his noble mien, 
The might of his eye, 
And his smiles bright sheen. 



( 302 ) 



And of his speecli 
The magic flow — 
His hand's soft pressure, 
His kisses' glow ! 

My heart is oppress'd &c. 

My hreast so aches 
And longs for him ; 
My sad heart breaks 
To be with him. 

Strained to his bosom 
To kiss my fill ! 
Panting and dying, 
To lie there still !" 

The following specimens of translation from Moore, Byron, 
and Wolfe, are from the same pen. I print them as literary 
curiosities : — 

" There be none of beauty's daughters." — Byron. 

" Von der Schonheit Tbchtern keine 
Dich an Zaubermacht erreicht, 
Fern em Singen auf den Wassern 
Deine siisse Stimme gleicht. 
Als ruhten von dem Ton betrogen 
Des Meeres unbezwungne Wogen, 
Die Fluth in stillem Glanze lieget, 
Die Winde traumen eingewieget. 

Und das Mondlicht ob der Tiefe 
Seine Strahlenkette webt ; 
Gleich als ob sie kindlich schliefe, 
Leise sich ihr Busen hebt : 
So der Geist zu dir sich kehret, 
Und dir lauscht und dich verehret, 
Voll von sanftester Bewegung, 
Wie des Meeres Sommer-Regung." 



( 303 ) 



" Oh, the days are past, when beauty bright." — Moore. 

" Oh, die Tage sind hin, als der Schonheit Macht 
Mein Herz erfuhr ; 
Als mein Lebenstraum, von der Friih' bis zur Nacht, 
War Liebe nur ! 
Wohl Hoffhung bliiht, 
Wohl Tage siebt 
Mein Aug' einst, mild und rein : 
Doch stets wird der Liebe Jugendtraum 

Das Schonste seyn ; 
Acb, stets wird der Liebe Jugendtraum 
Das Schonste seyn ! 

Wohl erstrebt der Barde ein hob 'res Ziel, 

Wenn Jugend floli ; 
Und zwingt die Weisen, die ziirnten viel, 
Zum Beifall so ; 
Docb fiillt ihn je, 
Auf aller Hoh' 
Des Ruhms, so froher Muth, 
Als da er einst der Geliebten sang 

Der Seele Gluth, 
Und ibr Name so oft auf ihre Wang' 
Rief ros'ges Blut? 

Die Gestalt die die erste Liebe geweibt, 

Vergisst sicb nie ; 
Um den grunsten Fleck in der Wuste der Zeit, 
Scbwebt zogernd sie ; 
'S war wie ein Duft 
Zerrinnt in Luft, 
Wie friih ein Traumbild thut ; 
'S war ein Licht das sie nie wieder spiegeln kann 

Die Lebensfluth; 
Acb, ein Licht das sie nie wieder spiegeln kann 
Die todte Fluth !" 



( 304 ) 



" Das Begrabniss des Sir John Moore."— Nach Woolfe. 

" Kein Glockenton, kem Trommelschall 
Erklang, als nach dem Festungswall 
Die Leiche wir brachten in Eile ; 
Dem Helden ward zum Abschiedsgruss 
Nicht eines einzeln' Krieger's Scbuss 
Ob seinem Grabe zu Theile. 

Er ward in stiller Mitternacht, 
In Finsterniss zur Ruh' gebracht, 
Es gruben das Grab Bayonette ; 
Triib brannte der Laterne Licht, 
Des Mondes bleiches Angesicbt 
Beschien die traurige St'atte. 

Kein iiberfliiss'ger Sarg umschloss 

Die Heldenbrust so frei und gross, 

Mit Linnen nicht ward er umwunden ; 

Im Reitermantel eingehiillt 

Lag er, der Krieger stark und mild 

Wie zum Scblummer von wenigen Stunden. 

Nur kurz und rasch war das Gebet 

Mit welchem wir fur ihn geflebt, 

Und es ward nicht von Kummer gesprochen ; 

Fest blickten wir den Todten an, 

Und knirschend dachten wir daran : 

Bald sei der Tag angebrochen ! 

Wir dachten auf der Trauerst'att 
Als wir gehohlt sein enges Bett, 
Und geglattet sein einsames Kissen : 
Des Fremden Fuss, des Feindes Schritt 
Bald iiber dieses Haupt hintritt, 
Doch von hinnen segeln wir miissen. 



( 305 ) 



Sie sprechen bald wohl keck und kiihn 

Vom Heldengeiste der dahin — 

Am Grabe selbst schallet ihr Schm'ahen ; 

Doch lassen schlummern nur im Grab 

Sie ihn, das ibm ein Britte gab, 

So l'asst er's acbtloss gescheben. 

Das V/ erk voll Pein war halb gethan, 

Da kiindet uns die Glocke an, 

Die Stunde sei kommen zum Scbeiden ; 

Und hier und dort, in Feld und Wald, 

Kanonendonner einzeln scballt : 

Es riistet der Feind sich zum Streiten. 

Wir senkten mit betriibtem Muth 
Ihn ein, bedeckt mit frischem Blut, 
Und friscber Ehre, den Sieger. 
Nicht eine Schrift, nocb Urn' und Stein, 
Ward ibm geweibt ; er blieb allein 
Mit seinem Rubme, der Krieger." 

The writer of these beautiful lines is a German lady, who, 
to the best of my belief, was never in this, country in her life ; 
a young and gentle woman, — so truly feminine, indeed, that 
one wonders where all the fire and energy that characterize her 
compositions can lie hid. Notwithstanding the example set by 
a few brilliant women in Germany, there still exists a strong 
prejudice amongst the higher classes against female authorship, 
and the friends of my accomplished correspondent would never 
hear of her publishing, or she might have been ere now the 
Hemans, the Norton, or the L. E. L. of Germany. Not more than 
half a century ago, it was deemed a condescension in a nobleman 
to enter the arena of literature. The Stolbergs, who should 
have known better, actually assumed as the motto of a joint pro- 
duction, published at Leipzig in 1777, these lines from Virgil : — 

" Ceu duo nubigense, quum vertice montis ab alto 
Descendunt, Centauri." 

The Germans have conquered this prejudice, and it is 



( 306 ) 



to be hoped that they will soon conquer the other. They have 
only to look at England to convince themselves how vastly 
they are losing by it. A positive majority of our influential 
writers are women, and amongst them will be found many 
connected with our proudest nobility. There have been, for 
instance, Mrs. Hemans, Mrs. Jameson, Mrs. Austin, Lady 
Morgan, the Countess of Blessington, Miss Martineau, Mrs. 
Marcet, Mrs. Trollope, Mrs. Somerville, Mrs. Howitt, Mrs. Gore, 
Mrs. Norton, Miss Norton, Mrs. Sheridan, Mrs. Lee (Bowditch), 
Mrs. Sandford, Miss Landon, Miss Montgomery, Mrs. Hall, 
Lady Dacre, Mrs. Sullivan, Mrs. Fletcher, Lady Stepney, Miss 
Fanny Kemble, Lady Emmeline Stuart Wortley, Miss Mitford, 
Miss Aikin, Mrs. Shelley, and Lady Charlotte Bury, all fairly 
before the public within a year or two ; to say nothing of the 
Edgeworths, the Porters, the Opies, the Baillies, &c. &c. who are 
now reposing in perfect stillness under the shade of their laurels. 
I scatter down these names, without order or precedence, as 
they occur to me, for the benefit of the ladies of Germany ; in 
the hope of doing something towards dissolving the prejudice, 
and eventually unlocking the stores of fancy, feeling, obser- 
vation and thought with the Adeles and Ottilies must have 
hived up. Fenelon, the arch-enemy of female authorship, has 
said : " II y doit avoir pour le sexe une pudeur sur la science 
presqu'aussi delicate que celle qu 'inspire l'horreur du vice. 
Rien n'est estimable que le bons sens et la vertu." Had he 
lived to our days, and known some of the literary ladies of 
England, I think he would have altered his tone. 

Franz Horn, in the fourth volume of his larger work, has a 
short section upon this subject. He is of opinion that women 
are generally better than their books, and there I quite agree 
with him ; but their books may be very good for all that. 

At p. 216, there is an endeavour to fix the date of the first 
complete edition of the First Part of Faust. I have since been 
favoured by a communication from M. Varnhagen von Ense, 
in the course of which he states that it first appeared in the 
edition of Goethe's works published in duodecimo in 1807 



( 307 J 



and in octavo in 1808. From the correspondence between 
Zelter and Goethe, however, it would seem that this edition 
did not appear until 1808 ; for in a letter, dated July 13th, 1 808, 
we find Zelter acknowledging the receipt of the completed 
Faust, and requesting an explanation of the Intermezzo, which 
unluckily is not afforded to him. — (Vol. i. p. 322). It is really 
very singular that such a point as this should still remain a 
matter of doubt. 

p. 5. Who brings much, will bring something to many a one.~\ — 
The following passage in one of Madame de Sevigne's letters, 
which I hit upon in looking for something else, is a striking il- 
lustration of this aphorism and the passage it is taken from : " La 
Comedie des Visionn aires nous rejouit beaucoup: nous trou- 
vames que c'est la representation de tout le monde ; chacun a 
ses visions plus ou moins marquees." The author of this play, 
long ago forgotten, was Jean Desmerets de Saint-Sortin. 

p. 12. But thy messengers, Lord, respect the mild going of 
thy day.~] — To the note on this passage, (ante, 219), should 
have been added the 7th verse of the 1st chapter of St. Paul's 
First Epistle to the Hebrews. 



The whole of the translated part of this edition was already 
printed off, when a work appeared entitled, " A Few Remarks 
on Mr. Hayward's Translation of Goethe's Faust, with Ad- 
ditional Observations on the Difficulty of Translating German 
Works, by D. Boileau;" with an advertisement stating that it 
might be considered either as a Supplement to my Notes or as 
a sequel to some former production of Mr. B.'s, and bound up 
with either my work or his. As the Remarks are on the 
whole complimentary and apparently well meant, I wish he 
had not thus imposed upon me the necessity of pronouncing 
an opinion on them; but I really cannot allow him to fix him- 
self, like the Old Man of the Sea, upon my back; and it is 
but a common act of justice to the purchasers of my book to 
x2 



( 308 ) 



say, that I have received many a better set of suggestions in 
manuscript, accompanied by an apology for their insignificance. 

Another observation is also forced upon me. In some three 
or four instances of alleged mistake (in all which instances 
he is palpably wrong) Mr. B. goes out of his way to reproach 
my friends with the inaccuracy. Considering the relative 
position of the parties, a formal vindication might well be 
deemed superfluous, but to prevent all future misconstructions, 
I now repeat (what I stated in my original Preface) that no one 
can in common fairness be held answerable for my mistakes ; for 
no one ever saw so much as a single page of the work until it 
was in print. I then submitted the proof-sheets of the trans- 
lated part to two of my friends, but neither of them, at that 
time at least, undertook a verbatim collation of it with the 
original. After the work had been printed off and distributed, it 
underwent many such collations, but as I could not keep more 
than a small portion of letter-press standing without adding 
very considerably to the expense, the only difference between 
the copies privately distributed and the published copies was 
to be found in the last two sheets (32 pages). Even every word 
of the original preface was the same. This may account for 
the carelessness with which some of the opinions were hazarded, 
and also, in some measure, for the familiar style of the notes. 
Finding that they were not liked the less on that account, I 
have made no endeavour to elevate the tone. 

The second division of Mr. Boileau's work may be useful to 
the beginner ; but it is to be regretted that he did not get some 
one to look over the translated parts for him. In his prose 
version of the little poem, An Schwager Chronos, there are as 
many inaccuracies as lines. 



APPENDIX. 



APPENDIX, No. I. 



CONTAINING 

AN ABSTRACT 

OF 

THE SECOND PART OF FAUST, 

AND SOME ACCOUNT OF 
THE CIRCUMSTANCES UNDER WHICH IT WAS COMPOSED. 



The heading, or stage direction, of the first scene is— 
" A pleasant country — Faust bedded upon flowery 
turf, tired, restless, endeavouring to sleep — Twilight — 
a circle of spirits hovering round, graceful little forms." 
Ariel opens it with a song, accompanied by vEolian 
harps ; the other spirits form a chorus, and Faust gives 
voice to the emotions which the rising sun (very beau- 
tifully described) awakens in him. 

The next scene is laid in the emperor's court: what 
emperor, does not appear. He is seated in full pomp 
upon his throne, surrounded by all his officers of state, 
to whom he condescendingly addresses himself: — -" I 
greet my true, my loving subjects, congregated from 
far and near ; 1 see the sage (meaning the astrologer) 
at my side, but where tarries the fool?" The fool, it 
seems, has just been carried out drunk or in a fit, most 
probably by the contrivance of Mephistopheles, who 
instantly steps forward in his place and proposes a 
riddle to his majesty. He puts it aside with the re- 
mark, that riddles are for his council, and only (it is to 



( 312 ) 



be inferred) simple, unadulterated folly for himself. 
The new fool, however, is regularly installed ; the em- 
peror opens the conference, and all the high officers 
give their opinions upon the existing state of the realm, 
than which nothing can well be worse. The chancellor 
complains of the neglect of the laws, the commander in 
chief of the insubordination of the army, the marshal 
of the household of the waste in the kitchen, and the 
first lord of the treasury expatiates on the empty state 
of his coffers, the grand source of all the other evils. 
The emperor, sorely puzzled, reflects a moment, and 
then turns to the fool, or rather to Mephistopheles 
disguised as such: " Speak, fool, dost thou too know 
of no matter of complaint?" Mephistopheles replies 
in the negative, and expresses his astonishment that 
anything should be wanting where so much glittering 
splendour was to be seen. This calls forth a murmur 
from the courtiers, and Mephistopheles is made the 
subject of a fair share of insinuation and abuse; but he 
proceeds notwithstanding and developes his plan, which 
is to begin digging for subterraneous treasures imme- 
diately ; as all such, he observes, belong of right to the 
emperor. This plan is generally approved by all but 
the chancellor, who does not think it in exact accord- 
ance with religion; and the emperor himself declares 
his intention of laying aside his sword and sceptre, and 
setting to work in his own proper person immediately. 
The astrologer, however, calls on them to mitigate 
their zeal, and first finish the celebration of the ap- 
proaching carnival. The emperor assents, and gives 
the word for a general rejoicing accordingly; the 
trumpets sound, and exeunt omnes but Mephistopheles, 
who concludes the scene with a sneer: How desert 
and good fortune are linked together, this never occurs 



( 313 ) 



to fools ; if they had the stone of the philosopher, they 
would want the philosopher for the stone." 

The subject of the next scene is a mask got up by 
Faust for the amusement of the emperor, irregular and 
extravagant in the extreme. Gardeners, flower-girls, 
olive-branches, rose-buds, fishermen, bird-catchers, 
wood-hewers, parasites, satirists, the Graces, the Parcse, 
the Furies, Fear, Hope, Prudence, Zoilo-Thersites, 
Pan, Plutus, Fauns, Gnomes, Satyrs, Nymphs, are 
amongst the things and persons which come forward in 
the course of the entertainment. The verses placed in 
their mouths are often very beautiful, but appear to 
have no reference to a plot. There is also some clever 
general satire. The scene closes, like most of our 
melodrames, with a general blaze, which is also de- 
scribed with great spirit by the herald. 

The next scene is in one of the palace pleasure 
gardens, where the court is found assembled as before, 
and the emperor is represented thanking Faust for the 
mask and congratulating himself on having discovered 
such a treasure of a man. Their converse is suddenly 
interrupted by the entrance of the marshal of the 
household, the commander in chief and the lord trea- 
surer, to announce that all their distresses have been 
suddenly removed by the creation of an odd sort of 
paper-money, bills promising payment in the emperor's 
name when the subterranean treasure before mentioned 
shall be dug up. The circulation of this paper ap- 
pears to have produced nearly the same effect in the 
emperor's dominions as the South Sea scheme in Eng- 
land or Law's project in France, which, we presume, 
it must be intended to ridicule. The people are repre- 
sented as running absolutely wild at their fancied ac- 
cession of wealth, and the emperor amuses himself by 



( 314 ) 



bestowing portions of it on the followers of his court, 
on condition of their declaring what use they intend to 
make of what they receive. The humour thus elicited 
does not rise beyond common-place. One says that 
he will lead a merry life upon it, a second that he will 
buy chains and rings for his sweetheart, a third has a 
fancy for good wine, and a fourth for sausages ; a fifth 
proposes to redeem his mortgages, and a sixth to add 
it to his hoard. The fool comes last, and might well 
have been expected to say something sharp, but he 
simply avows a wish to become a landholder, and yet 
is complimented by Mephistopheles on his wit. Faust 
and Mephistopheles are then represented walking in a 
dark gallery, whither Faust has withdrawn Mephis- 
topheles, to procure the means of exhibiting Helen and 
Paris before the emperor, to whom he has pledged his 
word to that effect. Mephistopheles answers at first 
evasively : he has nothing (he says) to do with the 
heathen world, they live in a hell of their own ; there 
is one mode, however ; — Faust must repair to certain 
goddesses called, par eminence, The Mothers,* dwelling 
in the deepest recesses of unearthly solitudes, through 
which he is to be guided by a key bestowed for that 
purpose by Mephistopheles. Faust shudders at the 
name, but undertakes the adventure and sets out. 

The following scene represents the assembling of 
the court; Mephistopheles cures a blonde beauty of 
freckles, and a brunette of lameness, and bestows a 
love-potion on a third ; after which exploits, we pro- 
ceed to the grand hall, where the emperor and his suite 
are awaiting the arrival of Faust for the promised 
spectacle to begin. He appears at last, emerging as it 

* I have never yet met with any one who could tell me what Die 
M'dlter means. 



( 315 ) 



were from the stage ; he is dressed in sacrifical robes, 
and a tripod accompanies him. By the aid of The 
Mothers, and the application of a charmed key which 
he has with him, he brings first Paris and then 
Helen upon the stage. For a time, all goes on well, 
and we are amused by the remarks of the courtiers, 
male and female, on the beauty and her lover, when 
on Paris' behaving with something like rudeness to 
Helen, Faust gets jealous and interferes. An explo- 
sion is heard, the spirits ascend in vapour, and Faust, 
prostrated by the shock, is borne off senseless by Me- 
phistopheles. 

So ends the first act. At the commencement of the 
second, we find Faust laid on an old-fashioned bed in 
his old study, with Mephistopheles attending him. 
" He whom Helen paralyses (says the latter) comes 
not easily to his senses again." From a conversation 
between Mephistopheles and an attendant, it appears 
that, ever since Faust's disappearance, Wagner has 
lived on in his house, and has now attained to almost 
as great a reputation as his master. At the opening 
of the scene, he has been long busied in his laboratory, 
endeavouring, like another Frankenstein, to discover 
the principle of life. To make the train of old asso- 
ciations complete, the Student, now a Bachelor, enters, 
and thus affords us an opportunity of seeing how far 
he has profited by Mephistopheles' advice. It seems 
that he is become a convert to Idealism, and he makes 
a speech in which Fichte's system is quizzed. 

After this dialogue we are conducted into Wagner's 
laboratory, who has just succeeded in manufacturing 
an Homunculus, a clever little imp, incarcerated in a 
bottle, bearing a strong resemblance to the Devil upon 
Two Sticks. He is introduced apparently to act as a 



( 316 ) 



guide to the Classical Walpurgis Night ; Mephistophe- 
les, as has been already intimated, having no jurisdic- 
tion over the heathen world. Of this Classical Wal- 
purgis Night itself, which occupies the next sixty or 
seventy pages, it is quite impossible to give any thing 
like a regular description or analysis ; though the 
readers of the First Part of Faust may form some 
notion of it on being told, that it is formed upon pretty 
nearly the same plan as the wilder part of the scenes 
upon the Blocksberg, with the difference, that all the 
characters are classical. The number of these is pro- 
digious. Besides monsters of various sorts, we find 
Erichtho, the Sphynx, the Sirens, the Pigmies, the 
Nymphs, Chiron, talking Dactyls, Lamiae, Anaxagoras, 
Thales, Dryas, Phorkyas, Nereids, Tritons, Nereus, 
Proteus, and many other less familiar names which it 
would be wearisome to recapitulate, all scattering apo- 
thegms or allusions at random, with (we say it with all 
due humility) very little immediate fitness or point. 

The Helena, which in some sense may be considered 
a part of the Classical Walpurgis Night, follows, and 
forms the third act of the continuation.* 

Helen enters upon the stage (before the palace of 
Menelaus at Sparta) accompanied by a chorus of cap- 
tive Trojan women. From her opening speech, it ap- 
pears that she has just landed with her lord, who has 
sent her on before, and is expected to follow immedi- 
ately. She has been directed to prepare all things for 
a sacrifice, but on entering the palace for this purpose, 
she encounters an apparition in the shape of a gigantic 
old woman, who, before Helen has well done relating 
what she had seen to the chorus, comes forth in propria 

* See an Article in the Foreign Review, vol. i. p. 429, by Mr. 
Carlyle, for a full account of the Helena. 



( 317 ) 



persond. This is Phorkyas, who begins by upbraiding 
Helen, and gets into a not very edifying squabble with 
her maids. But the main object is to frighten them 
away ; with this view Phorkyas plays on Helen's fears 
by suggesting, that, amidst all the required prepara- 
tions for the sacrifice, nothing had yet transpired as to 
the intended victim, and that the victim was most pro- 
bably herself. It is further intimated that the chorus 
had nothing very pleasing to look forward to, and Me- 
nelaus' treatment of Deiphobus, whose nose and ears 
he cropped, is considerately alluded to in illustration 
of the Spartan chief's mode of dealing with his ene- 
mies. The plan succeeds, and the Queen consents to 
fly to a neighbouring country of barbarians, described 
in glowing colours by Phorkyas. Instantly clouds veil 
the scene, which shifts to the inner court of a town, 
surrounded by rich fantastic buildings of the middle 
ages. She is here received by Faust, the lord of the 
place, who appears dragging along one Lynceus, his 
watchman, in chains, for not giving due notice of the 
beauty's approach. Lynceus excuses himself in fine 
flowing verse, and receives his pardon as a matter of 
course. Faust makes good use of his time, and is 
rapidly growing into high favour with Helen, when 
Phorkyas rushes in with the tidings that Menelaus, 
with all his army, is at hand. Faust starts up to en- 
counter the enemy, but, instead of being turned into a 
battle-field, the scene changes into a beautiful Arcadian 
landscape, set round with leafy bowers, amongst which 
Faust and Helen contrive to lose themselves for a time. 
Whilst they are out of sight, Phorkyas converses with 
the chorus, and amongst other topics describes to them 
a beautiful Cupid-like sort of boy, called Euphorion, 
who directly afterwards comes forward with Helen and 



(- 318 ) 



Faust. This youngster, after exhorting by turns all 
the party to merriment, and behaving with some rude- 
ness to one of the young ladies of the chorus, who out 
of sheer modesty vanishes into air, springs upon a high 
rock, talks wildly about battles and warlike fame, and 
finishes by bounding up into the air, through which he 
darts like a rocket, with a stream of brightness in his 
train, leaving his clothes and lyre upon the ground. 
The act now hurries to a conclusion; Helen bids Faust 
farewell, and throws herself into his arms to give him 
a farewell kiss, but the corporeal part of her vanishes, 
and only her veil and vest remain in his embrace. 
These, however, also dissolve into clouds, which encir- 
cle Faust, lift him up on high, and finally fly away with 
him. Phorkyas picks up Euphorion's clothes and lyre, 
and seats herself by a pillar in the front of the stage. 
The leader of the chorus, supposing her to be gone for 
good and all, exhorts the chorus to avail themselves of 
the opportunity of returning to Hades, which they de- 
cline, saying, that as they have been given back to the 
light of the day, they prefer remaining there, though 
at the same time well aware that they are no longer to 
be considered as persons. One part profess an inten- 
tion of remaining as Hamadryads, living among and 
having their being in trees ; a second propose to exist 
as echoes ; a third, to be the animating spirits of 
brooks ; and a fourth, to take up their abode in vine- 
yards. After this declaration of their respective in- 
tentions, the curtain falls, and Phorkyas, laying aside 
the mask and veil, comes forward in his or her real 
character of Mephistopheles, " to comment (this is the 
stage direction) so far as might be necessary, in the 
way of epilogue, on the piece." 

The fourth act is conversant with more familiar 



( 319 ') 



matters, but its bearing on the main action is equally 
remote. The scene is a high mountain. A cloud 
comes down and breaks apart: Faust steps forth and 
soliloquises : a seven-mile boot walks up ; then ano- 
ther: then Mephistopheles, upon whose appearance 
the boots hurry off, and we see and hear no more of 
them. A dialogue takes place between Faust and 
Mephistopheles, in the course of which it appears that 
Faust has formed some new desire, which he tells Me- 
phistopheles to guess. He guesses empire, pleasure, 
glory, but it is none of them: Faust has grown jealous 
of the daily incroachments of the sea, and his wish is 
step by step to shut it out. Just as this wish is uttered, 
the sound of trumpets is heard; the cause is explained 
by Mephistopheles. Our old friend, the emperor, is 
advancing to encounter a rival, whom his ungrateful 4 
subjects have set up. Mephistopheles proposes to 
Faust to aid him and gain from his gratitude the grant 
of a boundless extent of strand for their experiment, 
to which Faust apparently consents. Three spirits are 
called up by Mephistopheles, in the guise of armed 
men,* to assist. Faust joins the emperor's army and 
proffers him the aid of his men. The fight commences, 
and is won by the magical assistance of Faust. Some 
of the changes of the battle are sketched with great 
force and spirit, as seen from the rising ground, where 
the emperor, Faust and Mephistopheles are witnessing 
it.f The last scene of the act is laid in the rebel em- 

* See Samuel, b. ii. ch. 23, v. 8-13. 

t This was Sir Walter Scott's favourite mode of describing; and 
there is hardly a description of any sort in the poem before us which 
is not placed in the mouth of some one looking down from a com- 
manding point of view upon the scene. Several instances are enu- 
merated in Mr. L. Adolphus' delightful Letters on the Author of 
Waverley, p. 242. 



( 320 ) 



peror's tent, where several plunderers are busily en- 
gaged until disturbed by the entrance of the victorious 
emperor with four of his chiefs, each of whom he re- 
wards with some post of honour. Then enters an 
archbishop, who reproaches the emperor for leaguing 
himself with sorcerers, and succeeds in extorting a 
handsome endowment for the church. 

The first scene of the fifth and last act represents 
an aged couple (Baucis and Philemon by name), ex- 
tending their hospitality to a stranger. From a few 
words which drop from them, it appears that their cot- 
tage stands in the way of Faust's improvements, and 
that, Ahab-like, he has already manifested an undue 
eagerness to possess himself of it. The next scene 
represents a palace, with an extensive pleasure garden 
and a large canal. Faust appears in extreme old age, 
and plunged in thought. The subject of his medita- 
tions is the cottage of the old couple, which " comes 
him cramping in," and spoils the symmetry of his 
estate. A richly-laden vessel arrives, but the cargo 
fails to soothe him ; the little property which he does 
not possess would embitter, he says, the possession of 
a world. All is now deep night, and Lynceus the 
watchman is on his tower, when a fire breaks out in 
the cottage of the old couple. Mephistopheles, with 
three sailors belonging to the vessel, has set fire to the 
cottage, and the old couple perish in the conflagration. 
Without any immediate connection with the foregoing 
incidents, four grey old women are brought upon the 
stage — Guilt, Want, Care and Misery — and hold an 
uninteresting conversation with Faust. We have then 
Mephistopheles acting as overseer to a set of workmen 
(earthly as well as unearthly, it would seem) employed 
in consummating Faust's wish of limiting the dominion 



( 321 ) 



of the waves. I shall give Faust's dying words 
literally : 

Faust. 

" A marsh extends along the mountain's foot, in- 
fecting all that is already won : to draw off the noisome 
pool — the last would be the crowning success ; I lay 
open a space for many millions to dwell upon, not safely 
it is true, but in free activity; the plain, green and 
fruitful ; men and flocks forthwith made happy on the 
newest soil, forthwith settled on the mound's firm base, 
which the eager industry of the people has thrown up. 
Here within, a land like Paradise ; there without, the 
flood may rage up to the brim, and as it nibbles 
powerfully to shoot in, the community throngs to close 
up the openings. Yes, heart and soul am I devoted to 
this wish; this is the last resolve of wisdom. He only 
deserves freedom and life, who is daily compelled to 
conquer them for himself; and thus here, hemmed 
round by danger, bring childhood, manhood and old 
age their well-spent years to a close. I would fain 
see such a busy multitude, — stand upon free soil with 
free people. I might then say to the moment — ' Stay, 
thou art so fair!' The trace of my earthly days can- 
not perish in centuries. In the presentiment of such 
exalted bliss, I now enjoy the most exalted moment. 

(Faust sinks back ; the Lemukes take him up and 
place him upon the ground.) 

Mephistopheles. 

No pleasure satisfies him, no happiness contents him ; 
so is he ever in pursuit of changing forms : the last, 
the worst, the empty moment, the poor one wishes to 
hold it fast. He who withstood me so vigorously! 
Time has obtained the mastery ; here lies the greybeard 
in the dust ! The clock stands still ! 

y 



( 322 ) 



Chorus. 

Stands still! It is as silent as midnight. The index 
hand falls." 

The angels descend, and a contest ensues between 
them and Mephistopheles, backed by his devils, for 
the soul of Faust. It is eventually won by the angels, 
who succeed by exciting the passions and so distracting 
the attention of Mephistopheles. They fly off, and he 
is left soliloquising thus : — 

Mephistopheles (looking round.) 

" But how? whither are they gone? Young as you 
are, you have over-reached me. They have flown 
heavenwards with the booty ; for this have they been 
nibbling at this grave! a great, singularly precious 
treasure has been wrested from me ; the exalted soul 
which had pledged itself to me, this have they cunningly 
smuggled away from me. To whom must I now com- 
plain ? Who will regain my fairly won right for me ? 
Thou art cheated in thy old days ; thou hast deserved 
it ; matters turn out fearfully ill for thee. I have 
scandalously mismanaged matters ; a great outlay, to 
my shame, is thrown away ; common desire, absurd 
amorousness, take possession of the out-pitched devil. 
And if the old one, with all the wisdom of experience, 
has meddled in this childish, silly business, in truth it 
is no small folly which possesses him at the close." 

The last scene is headed — " Mountain defiles — Fo- 
rest — Rock — Desert." The characters introduced are 
Anchorites, Fathers, Angels, and a band of female 
Penitents, amongst whom we recognise Margaret re- 
joicing over the salvation of Faust. The verses placed 
in their mouths are often very beautiful, but have little 
connection with each other and no reference to a 
plot. 



( 323 ) 



I will now add what has transpired as to the cir- 
cumstances under which the continuation was com- 
posed. The first scene (down to p. 63 of the original) 
and the whole of the third act (the Helena) were pub- 
lished during Goethe's lifetime, in the last complete 
edition of his works. His views in publishing the 
Helena were explained in the Kunst und Alterthum 
by himself. The following extract from the article ap- 
plies to the general plan of the continuation : " I could 
not but wonder that none of those who undertook a 
continuation and completion of my Fragments (the 
First Part), had lighted upon the thought seemingly 
so obvious, that the composition of a Second Part must 
necessarily elevate itself altogether away from the ham- 
pered sphere of the First, and conduct a man of such 
a nature into higher regions, under worthier circum- 
stances. How I, for my part, had determined to essay 
this, lay silently before my own mind from time to 
time, exciting me to some progress ; while from all and 
each, I carefully guarded my secret, still in hope of 
bringing the work to the wished-for issue."* 

I am also enabled to state in his own words the 
manner in which this wished-for issue was brought 
about : 

" I have now arranged the Second Part of Faust, 
which, during the last four years, I have taken up 
again in earnest, — filled up chasms and connected to- 
gether the matter I had ready by me, from beginning 
to end. 

" I hope I have succeeded in obliterating all differ- 
ence between Earlier and Later. 

" I have known for a long time what I wanted, and 
even how I wanted it, and have borne it about within 

* The Foreign Review, vol. i. p. 443. 

Y 2 



( 324 ) 



me for so many years as an inward tale of wonder — but 
I only executed portions which from time to time pecu- 
liarly attracted me. This second part, then, must not 
and could not be so fragmentary as the first. The 
reason has more claim upon it, as has been seen in the 
part already printed. It has indeed at last required a 
most vigorous determination to work up the whole 
together in such a manner that it could stand before a 
cultivated mind. I, therefore, made a firm resolution 
that it should be finished before my birthday. And so 
it was ; the whole lies before me, and T have only trifles 
to alter. And thus I seal it up; and then it may 
increase the specific gravity of my succeeding volumes, 
be they what they may. 

" If it contains problems enough, (inasmuch as, like 
the history of man, the last solved problem ever pro- 
duces a new one to solve,) it will nevertheless please 
those who understand by a gesture, a wink, a slight 
indication. They will find in it more than I could give. 

" And thus is a heavy stone now rolled over the 
summit of the mountain, and down on the other side. 
Others, however, still lie behind me, which must be 
pushed onwards, that it may be fulfilled which was 
written, ' Such labour hath God appointed to man.' " — 
{Letter to Meyer, dated Weimar, July 20th, 1831.) 

I copy this from Mrs. Austin's Characteristics, in 
which two other interesting passages relating to the 
same subject occur. The following is translated from 
the Bibliotheque Unmerselle of Geneva : — 

" Having once secured complete tranquillity on this 
head (his will), Goethe resumed his usual habits, and 
hastened to put the last hand to his unpublished works; 
either to publish them himself, if heaven should grant 
him two or three years more of life, or to put them in 



( 325 ) 



a condition to be entrusted to an editor, without bur- 
dening him with the responsibility of the corrections. 
He began with the most pressing. The second part of 
Faust was not finished ; Helena, which forms the third 
act, had been composed more than thirty years before, 
with the exception of the end, which is much more 
recent, and which certainly does not go back further 
than 1825. The two preceding acts had just been 
finished — there remained the two last. Goethe com- 
posed the fifth act first ; then, but a few weeks before 
his death, he crowned his work by the fourth. This 
broken manner of working was, perhaps, not always his ; 
but it is explained in this case by the care he took to 
conceive his plan entire before he began to execute it; 
to reflect upon it, sometimes for a long series of years, 
and to work out sometimes one part, sometimes ano- 
ther, according to the inspiration of the moment. He 
reserved to himself the power of binding together these 
separate members in a final redaction — of bringing them 
together by the necessary transitions, and of throwing 
out all that might injure the integrity of the poem. 
Thus it happens that in the manuscripts relating to 
Faust there are found a great number of poems written 
at different periods, which could not find place in the 
drama, but which we hope may be published in the 
miscellaneous works." — (Characteristics of Goethe, 
vol.iii. pp. 87, 88.)* 

* This account is confirmed by Falk's story of the Walburgis 
Sack ; and also by the following anecdote communicated to me in a 
private letter by M. de Schlegel : — " Ce poeme, des son origine, etait 
condamne a ne rester qu'un fragment. Mais quoiqu'on juge de 
1'ensemble, les details sont admirables. Ceci me rappelle une anec- 
dote que je tiens du celebre medecin Zimmerman, fort lie avec 
Goethe dans sa jeunesse : Fauste avait ete annonce de bonne heure, 
et Ton s'attendait alors a, le voir paraitre prochainement. Zimmer- 



( m ) 



The Chancellor von Miiller, in his excellent little 
work entitled Goethe in seiner Praktischen Wirksamkeit, 
thus describes the conclusion of Faust, and (what is not 
less interesting) the events immediately preceding it : — 

" When Goethe had to bear the death of his only 
son, he wrote to Zelter thus: — ' Here, then, can the 
mighty conception of duty alone hold us erect. I have 
no other care than to keep myself in equipoise. The 
body must, the spirit will ; — and he who sees a neces- 
sary path prescribed to his will, has no need to ponder 
much.' 

" Thus did he shut up the deepest grief within his 
breast, and hastily seized upon a long-postponed labour, 
' in order entirely to lose himself in it.' In a fortnight 
he had nearly completed the fourth volume of his life, 
when nature avenged herself for the violence he had 
done her : the bursting of a blood-vessel brought him 
to the brink of the grave. 

" He recovered surprisingly, and immediately made 
use of his restored health to put his house most care- 
fully in order ; made, all his testamentary dispositions 
as to his works and manuscripts with perfect cheerful- 
ness, and earnestly employed himself in fully making up 
his account with the world. 

" But in looking over his manuscripts it vexed him 
to leave his Faust unfinished ; the greater part of the 
fourth act of the second part was wanting ; he laid it 
down as a law to himself to complete it worthily, and, 
on the day before his last birthday, he was enabled to 
announce that the highest task of his life was completed. 
He sealed it under a tenfold seal> escaped from the 

man, se trouvant a Weimar, demanda a son ami des nouvelles de 
cette composition. Goethe apporta un sac rempli de petits chiffons 
de papier. II le vuida sur la table et dit : ' Voila mon Fauste.' " 



( 327 ) 



congratulations of friends, and hastened to revisit, after 
many many years, the scene of his earliest cares and 
endeavours, as well as of the happiest and richest hours 
of his life." 

In relation to my Article on the Second Part of 
Faust in the Foreign Quarterly (in which most of the 
foregoing abstract, interspersed with translated speci- 
mens, appeared), some of my German friends blamed 
me for not putting in the plea of age for the author. 
I have done this most effectually now ; and the pleas of 
sickness and sorrow might also be supported if neces- 
sary. Indeed, after reading the above extracts, the 
wonder is, not that symptoms of decaying power are 
here and there discernible, but that the poem, under 
such circumstances, should have been completed at all ; 
and we may well say of Faust and its author, (as Lon- 
ginus said of Homer and the Odyssey), though the work 
of an old man, it is yet the work of an old Goethe. 

Another set have censured me for my sceptical and 
superficial notions of the plot, which is said to hide a 
host of meanings. My only answer is that I cannot 
see them, and have never yet met with any one who 
could ; though I studied the poem under circumstances 
peculiarly favourable to the discovery. None of the 
German critics, to the best of my information, have yet 
dived deeper than myself; the boldest merely venture 
to suggest that Faust's salvation or justification with- 
out any apparent merit of his own, is in strict accord- 
ance with the purest doctrines of our faith ; and that, 
though he suffered himself to be seduced into wicked- 
ness, his mind and heart remained untainted by the 
Mephistophelian philosophy to the last. This view of 
the poetical justice of the catastrophe was eloquently 
expounded by Dr. Franz Horn in a long conversation 
which I had with him on this subject in August last. 



( 328 ) 



Tasso tells us in a letter to a friend on the Jerusa- 
lem, that when he was beyond the middle of the poem, 
and he began to consider the strictness of the times, he 
began also to think of an allegory, as a thing which 
ought to smooth every difficulty. The allegory which 
he thought of, and subsequently gave out as the key to 
the more recondite beauties of his production, was this : 
" The Christian army, composed of various princes and 
soldiers, signified the natural man, consisting of soul 
and body, and of a soul not simple, but divided into 
many and various faculties. Jerusalem, a strong city, 
placed on a rough and mountainous tract, and to which 
the chief aim of the army is directed, figures civil or 
public felicity, while Godfrey himself represents the 
ruling intellect ; Rinaldo, Tancred, and others being the 
inferior powers of the mind, and the soldiers, or bulk 
of the army, the body. The conquest, again, with which 
the poem concludes, is an emblem of political felicity ; 
but as this ought not to be the final object of a Chris- 
tian man, the poem ends with the adoration of Godfrey, 
it being thereby signified that the intellect, fatigued in 
public exertions, should finally seek repose in prayer, 
and in contemplating the blessings of a happy and 
eternal life."* 

What Tasso did for the Jerusalem in this matter, I 
can conceive it quite possible the commentators may do 
for the Second Part of Faust ; but that they will there- 
by greatly elevate its poetical character, connect it with 
the First Part, or prove it an apt solution of the pro- 
blem, I doubt. As the Prologue in Heaven was not 
added until 1807 or 1808, my own opinion is that 
Goethe's plot had no more original existence than 
Tasso's allegory. 

* Allegoria de.Ua Ger. Lib.; quoted by Mr. Stebbings in his 
Lives of the Italian Poets : one of the most instructive and pleasing 
books of biography I know. 



APPENDIX, No. II. 



BEING 

AN HISTORICAL NOTICE 

OF 

€*)c £torj) of dfaust, 

AND THE VARIOUS PRODUCTIONS IN ART AND LITE- 
RATURE THAT HAVE GROWN OUT OF IT.. 



During my last visit to Germany, it was one of my 
amusements to inquire at all the libraries to which I 
could procure access, for books relating to Faust or 
Faustus ; and though the number was far from trifling, 
it cost me no great labour to acquire a general notion 
of the contents of most of them, and write down what 
bore upon my own peculiar study or seemed any way 
striking or new.* I had made considerable progress 
in the arrangement of the materials thus collected, 
when Brockhaus' Historisches Taschenbuch (Historical 
Pocket-Book) for 1834 arrived, containing an article 

* On one or two of these occasions I was in the same sort of pre- 
dicament as the far-famed Blumenbach, when the scull of Robert 
Bruce, presented to him by George the Fourth, arrived at Gbttingen. 
Blumenbach (who told me the anecdote himself) had not the most 
distant notion who Robert Bruce might be ; so he sent a message 
to the library, to request that all books relating to that hero, or the 
period in which he flourished, might be sent to him. The reply of 
the librarian was to the effect that it would be quite impossible to 
do so, unless the physiologist would have the goodness to send a 
brace of wheel-barrows or a cart for them. 



( 330 ) 



entitled Die Sage vom Doctor Faust, by Dr. Sieglitz 
(already known for an instructive article on the same 
subject*), in which, after a brief history of the hero 
himself, all the compositions of every sort, that (to 
the writer's knowledge) have grown out of the fable, 
are enumerated. The narrow limits of a Taschenbuch 
restricted Dr. Sieglitz to giving little more than a bare 
list of title-pages ; but this list has proved so extremely 
useful in indicating where almost every sort of infor- 
mation was to be had, that I think it right to avow 
beforehand the extent of obligation Dr. Sieglitz has 
laid me under. In particular, I am now enabled to say 
with confidence that nothing can well have escaped me 
which would have aided materially in the illustration of 
my work. 

Before beginning the life of Faust, some of his bio- 
graphers have thought it necessary to determine whe- 
ther he ever lived at all; and, were we to adopt the 
mode of reasoning so admirably illustrated in Dr. 
Whately's Historic Doubts concerning the existence of 
Napoleon, we must unavoidably believe that there never 
was such a person, but that the fable was invented by the 
monks to revenge themselves on the memory of Faust, 
the printer, who had destroyed their trade in manu- 
scripts. f But if we are content with that sort of evi- 
dence by which the vast majority of historical incidents 
are established, we shall arrive at a much more satis- 

* The article in F. Schlegel's Deutsches Museum referred to in my 
Fmt Edition. 

t It has been contended that the very name is an invented one ; 
the notion being that it was given to a magician — ob faustum in 
rebus peractu difficillimis successum. Volney's absurd mode of 
accounting for a far higher name, must be fresh in eveiy body's re- 
collection. 



( 331 ) 



factory conclusion concerning him. Melancthon knew 
him personally ; * he is spoken of by other immediate 
contemporaries ; and I have now before me a chain of 
biographical accounts, reaching from the time during 
which he is supposed to have flourished down to that 
at which I write. 

Johann (or John) Faust (or Faustus), then, according 
to the better opinion, was born at Kundlingen, within 
the territory of Wurtemberg,f of parents low of stock 
(as old Marlow expresses it), some time towards the 
end of the fifteenth century. He must not be con- 
founded with Faust (or Fust) the printer, who flourished 
more than half a century before. J He was bred a 
physician, and graduated in medicine, but soon betook 
himself to magic, as the better art for rising of the two. 
In this pursuit he is said to have spent a rich inherit- 
ance left him by an uncle. The study of magic natu- 
rally led to an acquaintance with the devil, with whom 
he entered into a compact substantially the same as that 
cited (ante, p. 254) in a note. In company with an imp 
or spirit, given him by his friend Satan and attending 
on him in the guise of a black dog, he ranged freely 
through the world, playing off many singular pranks 
upon the way. No doubt, however, he enjoys the credit 
of a great deal of mischief he had no hand in, just as 
wits like Jekyl or Sheridan have all the puns of their 
contemporaries to answer for. " Shortly, (says Gorres) 
Faustus appeared conspicuous in history as the common 
representative of mischievous magicians, guilty of all 
kind of diablerie. Their sins, throughout centuries, 

* So says the Conversations Lexicon ; but Dr. Sieglitz is silent on 
the point. 

t Anhalt and Brandenburgh also claim the honour of his birth. 
X A distinct title is assigned to each in the Conversations Lexi- 
con. The printer is supposed to have died of the plague in 1466. 



( 332 ) 



were all laid at his door ; and when the general faith, 
falling as it were to pieces, divided into ferocious 
schisms, it found a common point of approach in a man 
who, during his frequent tours, and his intercourse 
with all ranks of people, had boasted of his infernal 
connections and influence in the nether lands."* 

Faust appears to have travelled for the most in a 
magic mantle, presenting himself in the cities he lighted 
on as a travelling scholar (Fahrender Scholast), a very 
common sort of vagabond in the middle ages. We 
trace him through Ingolstadt, (where he is said to have 
studied), Prague, Erfurt, Leipsic, and Wittenberg, but 
cannot say with certainty what other places he visited 
in his tours. " About 1560 (says Mr. Carlyle, in a 
short note about him in the Foreign Quarterly Review, 
No. xvi.) his term of thaumaturgy being over, he dis- 
appeared; whether under a feigned name, by the rope 
of some hangman, or frightfully torn in pieces by the 
devil near the village of Rimlich, between twelve and 
one in the morning, let every reader judge for himself." 
I am not aware that there is any authority at all for the 
above very injurious insinuation, nor has Mr. Carlyle 
followed the best as to the date of Faust's disappear- 
ance. Nothing authentic was heard of him for nearly 
thirty years before. One anecdote, corroborative of 
the commonly received notion of his death, is worth 
recording. Neuman-j~ relates, that when, during the 
Thirty Years' War, the enemy broke into Saxony, a 
detachment was quartered at a village called Breda, 
on the Elbe. The magistrate of the village sought out 
the commander, and informed him that his house had 
obtained a high celebrity through Faust's horrible 
death in it, as the blood-besprinkled walls still testified. 

* Volkbucher, as translated by Mr. Roscoe. 
t Disquisitio de Fausto, &c. 



( SSS ) 



-At this information the conquerors stood astounded, 
and soon taking the alarm, endeavoured to save them- 
selves by flight. 

I must not forget to mention that Faust had un- 
doubtedly a disciple named Wagner, the son of a 
clergyman at Wasserburg. The name of Wagner also 
figures, as editor, on the title-pages of some works on 
magic attributed to Faust. 

The most remarkable thing about this fable is its 
almost universal diffusion. It spread rapidly through 
France, Italy, Spain, England, Holland and Poland, 
giving birth to numerous fictions, some of a high order 
of poetical merit. Amongst others, Calderon's El 
Magico Prodigioso has been attributed to it. St. 
Cyprian of Antioch was the model which Calderon 
really worked upon, but Goethe has been so unequivo- 
cally accused of plagiarising* from this play, that I 
shall make a short digression for the purpose of con- 
veying a general notion of the plot. Three scenes of 
it have been translated by Shelley, and though very 
rarely talked about, they are, in my opinion, fully equal 
to his fragments of Faust. 

The first scene is the neighbourhood of Antioch, 
where a solemnity in honour of Jupiter is in the act 
of celebration. Cyprian, who has begun to see the 
errors of polytheism, appears attended by two of his 
disciples carrying books. As he is meditating over a 
passage in Pliny relating to the nature and existence 
of God, the Evil One presents himself in the guise 
of a travelling gentleman who has lost his way. 
They have a dispute of some length, the devil defend- 
ing the old superstition, and Cyprian attacking it. 
The devil has the worst of the argument, and makes 
a pretence for withdrawing himself, resolving to 
* See ante, p. 228, 



( 334 ) 



seduce Cyprian by means of a woman. For this pur- 
pose he selects Justine, one of the new converts to 
Christianity, who is living in Antioch under the care 
of her adopted father, Lysando.* She is beloved by 
Floro and Laelio, who are about to fight a duel, when 
they are interrupted by the accidental presence of 
Cyprian, who undertakes to see the lady, and ascertain 
which of them is favoured by her preference. He 
visits, and falls in love with her himself ; but he is not 
more successful than the two young rivals have been ; 
and his desires are at length worked up to such a pitch, 
that he resolves on making every sacrifice to attain the 
object of them. Whilst in this mood, he witnesses a 
shipwreck, and offers the solitary survivor an asylum 
in his house. It is the demon ; who professes himself 
able to procure Cyprian the possession of Justine, and, 
in testimony of his power, splits a rock (jpenasco) asunder, 
and discovers her asleep in the centre of it. Cyprian 
is thereby induced to sign with his blood a contract for 
the eventual surrender of his soul, upon condition that 
Justine be secured to him ; which the devil contracts 
for in his turn. With this object, Cyprian studies 
magic, under the devil's instruction, until he has made 
himself a master of the art. Whilst Cyprian is thus 
accomplishing himself, Justine is beginning to relent, 
and, tempted by the devil, suffers amatory emotions to 
influence her to such a degree, that she is on the point 
of falling, but resists, and saves herself by faith. I 
am tempted to give an extract from Shelley's beau- 
tiful version of this scene; where the evil spirit is 
tempting the heroine : 

Justine. 
" Tis that enamour'd nightingale 
Who gives me the reply ; 

* This may remind the reader of Recha in Nathan the Wise. 



( 335 ) 



He ever tells the same soft tale 
Of passion and of constancy 
To his mate, who, rapt and fond, 
Listening sits, a bough beyond. 
Be silent, nightingale ! — no more 
Make me think, in hearing thee 
Thus tenderly thy love deplore, — 
If a bird can feel his so, 
What a man would feel for me ? 
And, voluptuous vine! O thou 
Who seekest most when least pursuing, 
To the trunk thou interlacest, 
Art the verdure which embracest, 
And the weight which is its ruin ; 
No more, with green embraces, vine, 
Make me think on what thou lovest, — 
For whilst thou thus thy boughs entwine, 
I fear lest thou shouldst teach me, sophist, 
How arms might be entangled too. 
Light-enchanted sun-flower! thou 
Who gazest, ever true and tender, 
On the sun's revolving splendour ! 
Follow not his faithless glance 
With thy faded countenance, 
Nor teach my beating heart to fear, 
If leaves can mourn without a tear, 
How eyes must weep ! O, nightingale, 
Cease from thy enamour'd tale, — 
Leafy vine, unwreathe thy bower, 
Restless sun-flower, cease to move, — 
Or tell me all, what poisonous power 
Ye use against me — 
All. 

Love! love! love!" 

The devil, thus foiled in his expectations, can only 
bring Cyprian a phantom resembling her, and maintains 
that he has thereby fulfilled his contract, but in the end 



( 336 ) 



is obliged to own that he has not ; that God — one God 
— the God of Christianity, prevents him from harming 
the maiden, herself a Christian. Cyprian draws his 
sword upon the devil, who is compelled to depart, 
leaving his intended victim to make his peace with 
God. This he does by becoming on the instant a com- 
plete convert to Christianity, the immediate result of 
which is that he is apprehended and condemned to die 
as a heretic in Antioch. Justine, in the mean time, 
has been exposed to a series of trials through the 
rivalry of Floro and Lselio, whose jealousy has been 
exasperated and her fair fame stained by various de- 
ceits put upon them by the devil ; and at the period 
of Cyprian's condemnation, she also is condemned as a 
heretic. They suffer together after an affecting inter- 
view, in which their constancy is put to a severe trial, 
and the piece closes (if we except a few expressions of 
astonishment by the bystanders) with the appearance 
of the demon, mounted on a serpent, on high ; who 
declares himself commanded by God to declare Justine's 
entire innocence. 

There is a comic by-plot between the inferior cha- 
racters of the piece, and several bustling scenes between 
Floro, Laelio, Lysando, and Justine, but I have only 
room enough for this very rude outline. The grand 
aim of the piece is obviously to exalt Christianity. 

I would also refer to the histories of Virgilius, a 
magician who long preceded Faust,* in proof that we 
are not loosely to attribute all traditions and fictions 

* See Roscoe's German Novelists, vol. i. p. 257. Paracelsus, 
Cornelius Agrippa, Cardanus, Thomas Campanella, Albertus Mag- 
nus, are enumerated by Dr. Sieglitz as early renowned for mysterious 
pursuits which went by the name of magical ; and we might match 
our own Roger Bacon against any of them. See "The Famous 
Historie of Fryer Bacon, with the Lives and Deaths of the Two 



( 337 ) 



which have a necromantic doctor for their hero, to the 
latter. The works directly founded on or relating to 
his history are numerous enough to satisfy the most 
ardent supporter of his dignity. Dr. Sieglitz makes 
the books alone amount to 106, and his catalogue is 
clearly incomplete. For instance, he does not mention 
a modern French prose epopee of some note (I forget 
the precise title) in three volumes, published within the 
last six years ; nor the old English work of 1594 men- 
tioned by Mr. Roscoe* as lent to him by Mr. Douce ; 
nor Mr. Roscoe's own volume ; nor four out of six of 
the English dramatic adaptations. The second part of 
Faust had not appeared when Dr. Sieglitz wrote, nor 
could my own book have reached Germany early enough 
to be counted in his list. I also miss Franz Horn, who 
has given a detailed and very interesting account of the 
old puppetshow-play.-j- 

I proceed to mention the most remarkable of these 
productions. 

First amongst those of the dramatic order, stand 
the old puppet-plays. Dr. Sieglitz mentions several of 
these as popular in the last century, but gives only a 

Conjurors Bungye and Vandermast," reprinted in 1815. A Life 
of Roger Bacon, with an account of the state of science in his 
times, is still a desideratum in our literature. 

* " The Second Report of Docter John Faustus, containing his 
Appearances, and the Deedes of Wagner, written by an English Gen- 
tleman, Student in Wittenberg, an University of Germany, in Saxony. 
Published for the delight of all those which desire Novelties, by a 
Friend of the same Gentleman. London, printed by Abell Jeffes, 
for Cuthbert Burby, and are to be sold at the middle shop, at Saint 
Milfred Church by the Stockes, 1594." 

t In his Freundliche Schriften, (Th. 2), and also in his Poesie 
und Beredsamktit <S-c, vol. 2, p. 263. At p. 258, he gives a short 
account of the old puppet-play of Don Juan, whom he calls, in 
another work, the antithesis of Faust, 
z 



( 338 ) 



general account of them. I therefore follow Franz 
Horn, who is speaking of a representation which he 
witnessed himself about the year 1807 :* 

The first scene represents Faust sitting in his study 
with a large book before him, in much the same attitude 
in which he is represented by Mario w and Goethe. 
After some reflections on the vanity of knowledge, he 
steps into the magic circle and conjures up the devils, 
for the purpose, it would seem, of selecting one of 
them for his slave. He questions each in turn as to 
his comparative swiftness, and after rejecting one by 
one those who merely profess to be as swift as air, 
arrows, plagues, &c. he chooses the one who says he is 
as swift as the thoughts of men. " In later versions," 
says Dr. Horn, " Faust is made to choose the devil who 
is as swift as the transition from good to evil." Faust 
is interrupted by the entrance of Wagner, who is re- 
presented as a lively sort of person apeing his master. 
Then enters Kasperl, the Mr. Merryman of the piece, 
who soon throws Wagner into the shade. Indeed, 
on the hiring of Kasperl as Faust's servant by Wagner, 
which takes place after a humorous dialogue between 
the two, Wagner drops out of view and Kasperl 

* He states that there has been no genuine old German puppet- 
theatre in Berlin since 1805. These pieces strongly resemble our 
own Punch, and no doubt the text varied with the wit of the exhi- 
bitor. Sheridan used to say that he liked a comedy better than a 
tragedy, a farce better than a comedy, a pantomime better than a 
farce, and Punch better than a pantomime. Punch is so intellectual 
an entertainment that I used to feel somewhat indignant at its being 
placed, below pantomime, at the bottom of the series ; but since it 
has been shown (first in The Companion and then in The Examiner) 
that many a deep meaning lies hid under the seemingly flighty 
characters of Clown, Pantaloon, Harlequin, and Columbine, I am 
by no means certain that pantomime should not go to the top. 



( 339 ) 



figures as the only attendant upon Faust. So soon 
as Kasperl is left alone, he is driven by curiosity 
to peep into Faust's Book of Magic, and succeeds with 
much difficulty in spelling out two words : Berlik, a 
spell to call up devils, and Berluk, a spell to send them 
away. He forthwith puts his new knowledge to the 
test, and amuses himself by repeating the words so 
rapidly one after the other, that it is only by the utmost 
exertion of their activity that the devils can keep pace 
with him and obey the word of command. In the end, 
however, he gets a knock-down blow or rebuff which 
closes the scene. 

Faust is next represented as anxious to enter into a 
compact with the devil, with the view of adding to his 
own influence upon earth. The compact is ready, and 
Faust is bringing ink to subscribe it, when the devil 
with a laugh explains to him that his own proper blood 
will be required. He complies, and opens a vein in 
his hand; the blood forms itself into the letters H. F. 
(Homo, fvge), and the warning is followed up by the 
appearance of a guardian-angel, but in vain. Me- 
phistopheles, who had retreated before the angel, re- 
appears ; and a raven flies off with the paper, now 
subscribed by Faust, in its beak. 

The only use Faust makes of his newly-acquired 
power, is to wander from place to place playing tricks. 
The palace of an Italian duke is the scene of all those 
which are represented in this show ; where he calls up 
Samson, Goliah, Solomon, Judith, &c. &c. for the 
amusement of the duchess. He is thus growing into 
high favour with her, when the duke, whether from 
jealousy or from some other cause which does not appear, 
makes an attempt to poison him, and Faust very pru- 
dently moves off. I must not forget to mention that 
z 2 



( 340 ) 



Kasperl is as facetious as usual during their sojourn in 
Italy, but on his master's sudden flight, he appears re- 
duced to the most melancholy condition by solitude. 
For company's sake, he invokes a devil, and embraces 
it with the utmost warmth of affection when it appears. 
This devil is touched by his situation, promises to con- 
vey him back to Germany, and advises him to apply 
for the place of watchman when there. Kaspar* thanks 
him heartily for his flattering advice, but modestly 
declares that he cannot sing ; to which the devil replies 
that the watchmen in Germany are not required to sing 
better than they can. 

Faust is now again in his Fatherland, but his term is 
nearly expired, and he whiningly asks the devil, who 
by the contract is always to speak the truth, whether it 
be yet possible for him to come to God. The devil stam- 
mers out a soft, " I know not," and flies trembling away. 
Faust kneels down to pray, but his devotions are 
interrupted by the vision of Helen, sent by the Evil 
One to prevent him from relapsing into faith. He 
yields to the temptation, and all hope is at an end. 

It is now the night of the catastrophe. As the clock 
strikes nine, a voice from above calls to Faust : Bereite 
dich, — Prepare thyself; and shortly afterwards the same 
voice exclaims : Du bist angeklagt, — Thou art arraigned. 
It strikes ten, and as Kasperl (in his capacity of watch- 
man) calls the hour, the voice exclaims : Du bist ge- 
richtet, — Thou art judged. " Thus then," (says Franz 
Horn,) " no retreat is any longer possible, for the judg- 
ment (Urtheil not Verurtheil) is passed, and though not 
yet pronounced, still quite clear to the foreboding 
spirit." On the stroke of midnight, the voice calls for 

* Dr. Horn spells the name sometimes Kasperl, and sometimes 
Kaspar. 



( 341 ) 



the last time : Du bist auf ewig verdammt, — Thou art 
damned to all eternity ; and after a short monologue, 
Faust falls into the power of the Evil One.* 

The piece concludes with another exhibition of buf- 
foonery by Kaspar, who comes upon the stage just as 
his master is borne off. 

None of the other puppet-show plays, of which we 
have any accurate account, differ materially from the 
above. 

According to Sheridan's classification, I should next 
mention the pantomimes founded on Faust. These are 
said to be numerous, but I have found it impossible to 
acquire more than a very vague and hearsay knowledge 
of them, nor perhaps is a more particular knowledge 
desirable. Only two produced at Leipzig in 1770 
and 1809, and one produced at Vienna in 1779, are 
recorded by Dr. Sieglitz ; but Mr. Winston, the Secre- 
tary to the Garrick Club, a gentleman remarkably well 
versed in dramatic history, has obligingly supplied me 
with a copy of the following three entries in his own 
private catalogue of performances : 

" Harlequin Dr. Faustus, with the Masques of the 
Deities, produced at Drury Lane in 1724. Published 
in Oct. 1724. By Thurmond, a dancing-master. Pan- 
tomime. 

* Dr. Franz Horn's valuable works on the History of German 
Literature were reviewed in the Edinburgh Review (No. 92) by 
Mr. Carlyle. Besides many miscellaneous productions of merit, he 
has also written five volumes on Shakspeare, which will amply repay 
the trouble of perusal. I have often thought that a selection from 
the German commentators on Shakspeare would be a most acceptable 
present to the English public. Should it ever be undertaken, Tieck 
and Franz Horn are the writers from whom the larger part of the 
compilation will come. We have Schlegel in an English dress 
already. 



( 342 ) 



" Harlequin Dr. Faustus, 176G ; a revival of the last, 
with alterations by Woodward. 

" Harlequin Dr. Faustus, or the Devil will have his 
Own. Pantomime. 1793." 

Marlow's play* seems to be the earliest regular drama 
founded on the fable ; one by Mountfort, also an Eng- 
lishman, the next.f A play extemporised by a com- 
pany of actors at Mainz in 1746, is the first of which 
any thing certain is recorded in Germany.;}; Since 
Marlow's time, some thirty or forty dramatic fictions (it 
is impossible to fix the precise number) have been 
founded on it. The great majority of these have been 
elicited by Goethe's ; Maler Muller, and two or three 
others, undoubtedly preceded him, so far at least as 
publication is concerned ; § but the designs differ widely, 
and no one, after reading Midler's, will suspect Goethe 
of borrowing much from it. There is considerable 
power in the soliloquies, and the scene in which the 

* It was acted in 1594 by the Lord Admiral's servants. From 
Mr. Collier's singularly accurate and instructive Annals of the 
Stage (vol. 3, p. 126), it appears that a considerable portion of 
Marlow's play, as it has come down to us, is the work of other 
hands. The earliest known edition is that of 1604 ; but it must 
have been written some time before, as it is supposed to have sug- 
gested " The Honourable History of Fiiar Bacon and Friar Bun- 
gay," published in 1594, by Greene. See Collier, vol. S, p. 159, 
and Dyce's Edition of Greene's Works. Marlow's Faustus has been 
translated into German by YV. Muller, with a Preface by Von Arnim, 
one of the editors of the Wunderhorn. 

t Life and Death of Dr. Faustus, by W. Mountfort, brought 
out at Queen's Theatre, Dorset Gardens ; published in 4to. 1697. 

$ Neuman, Disquis. de Fuusto, says generally that it was drama- 
tised in the seventeenth century. 

$ Johann Faust, an allegorical Drama in five Acts, was published 
at Munich in 1775. As to the chronological history of Goethe's 
Faust, see ante; p. 215. note. 



( 343 ) 



emblems of Wealth, Power, Pleasure, and Glory, are 
in turns exhibited to Faust, is very finely conceived; 
but the greater part is occupied by tedious colloquies 
between subordinate characters, and the plot has not 
time to develop itself before the Fragment concludes. 
There are two or three points of imperfect analogy, 
which I will name. 

The first scene, instead of representing the Lord 
wagering with Mephistopheles that he cannot seduce 
Faust, represents Lucifer wagering with Mephistopheles 
that no truly great, that is, firm and stedfast man, is 
to be found upon earth. Mephistopheles undertakes to 
prove that Faust is such a one ; so that in Goethe's 
drama we have Mephistopheles depreciating, and in 
Midler's exalting, the character of Faust. Again — 
Wagner makes his first entrance during one of Faust's 
soliloquies, w r hich he breaks off ; and a Margaret is 
represented as conversing with her lover from her win- 
dow in this manner : 

Kolbel. 

" Margaret, my charmer, my angel ! Oh, that I 
were above there in thy arms ! 

Margaret. 

" Hush ! I hear my sister ; my uncle coughs. Come 
round to the other window, and I have something more 
to say to you. 

Kolbel. 
" With all my heart, love." 

I hope there is no want of charity in supposing that 
this love-adventure ended much in the same manner 
as that recorded by Goethe ; and the expressions 
strongly resemble those, ante, p. 156. Some similarity 
in the soliloquies was to be anticipated, as they neces- 



( 344 ) 



sarily turn upon the same topics of discontent, but 
there is one reply made by Miiller's Faust to the devil, 
which bears so close a likeness to one placed by Goethe 
in his mouth (ante, p. 67), that I shall quote it also as 
it stands : 

Faust. 

" Know'st thou then all my wishes ? 

Sixth Devil. 
" — And will leave them in the consummation far 
behind. 

Faust. 

" How ! if I required it, and thou wert to bear me to 
the uppermost stars, — to the uppermost part of the 
uppermost, shall I not bring a human heart along with 
me, which in its wanton wishes will nine times surpass 
thy flight ? Learn from me that man requires more 
than God and Devil can give." 

Previous to the publication of Faust's Leben Drama- 
tisirt (the piece I quote from), Miiller had published 
(in 1 776) a Fragment entitled, " A Situation out of 
Faust's Life." It presents nothing remarkable.* 

Amongst the writers who have followed Goethe's in 
writing poems, dramas, or dramatic scenes about Faust, 
are Lenz, Schreiber, von Soden, Schink, von Chamisso, 
Voigt, Schone, Berkowitz, Klingemann, Grabbe, Holtei, 

* " Maler Miiller's Faust, which is a drama, must be regarded 
as a much more genial performance so far as it goes ; the secondary 
characters, the Jews and rakish students, often remind us of our own 
Fords and Marlows. His main persons, however, Faust and the 
devil, are but inadequately conceived ; Faust is little more than 
self-willed, supercilious, and, alas, insolvent ; the devils, above all, 
are savage, long-winded, and insufferably noisy. Besides, the piece 
has been left in a fragmentary state ; it can nowise pass as the best 
work of Miiller's." — (Foreign Review, vol. i. p. 435.) 



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Harro Harring, Rosenkranz, Hofmann, Bechstein, and 
Pfizer ; to these will have to be added those who have 
published anonymously. 

Lessing, it is well known, had drawn up two plans for a 
drama upon Faust ; he has only left us one fragment of a 
scene. This has been translated by Lord F. L.Gower (now 
Egerton), and appended to his translation of Goethe's 
Faust. Madame de Stael suggests that Goethe's plan was 
borrowed from it, and she is probably right as regards 
the Prologue in Heaven. The only difference is that 
Lessing's is a Prologue in Hell, where one of the at- 
tendant spirits proposes to Satan the seduction of Faust, 
who assents and declares the plan a feasible one, on 
being informed that Faust has an overweening desire 
of knowledge. The whole of this fragment would not 
more than fill two of my pages. See, as to Lessing's 
plans, his Briefe die neueste Literatur betrejfend, Part i. 
p. 103 ; the Analecten fur die Literatur, Part i. p. 110 ; 
and the Second Part of his Theatrical Legacy {Nach- 
lass). 

As to Music, an elegant writer in Mrs. Norton's Court 
Magazine remarks : 

" The meeting between Margaret and Faust in the 
prison, which closes the drama, is one of unequalled 
pathos ; too terrible, perhaps, for merely dramatic re- 
presentation, which is to be softened down to the mea- 
sure of pleasurable sorrow, only by the power of 
musical recitative. We never read the original scene 
without a thought, that, with the genius of a Beethoven 
to cast it into a musical shape, and the genius of a 
Schroeder Devrient to give it vocal utterance, it might 
be wrought into a means of delight as high and holy, 
perhaps, as the human heart can bear on this side of 
heaven." 



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Unfortunately the experiment has never yet been 
tried, though Dr. Sieglitz has no less than four operas 
upon his list. Of those by Bauerle and von Voss, I 
know nothing. That by Bernard and Spohr has been 
received with considerable applause in Germany, but 
the plot is mostly made up out of the old tradi- 
tionary stories, and the composer seems very rarely 
to have had Goethe's drama in his mind. An Opera 
Seria, entitled Fausto, was also produced at Paris in 
March, 1831, the music by Mademoiselle Louise 
Bertin ; this I never saw, nor do I know whether it 
succeeded or not. The Ballet of Faust, imported 
last year, must be fresh in every body's recollection ; 
the descent scene (as I can personally testify) had a 
fine effect in Paris, but it was completely spoiled at the 
Anglo-Italian Opera House by the shallowness of the 
stage. The devils were brought so near to the specta- 
tors, that the very materials of their infernal panoply 
were clearly distinguishable. 

A " Romantic Musical Drama," called first, "Faustus," 
and afterwards " The Devil and Dr. Faustus," the 
joint production of Messrs. Soane and Terry, was 
brought out at Drury Lane in May, 1825 ; and by the 
aid of Stansfield's scenery and Terry's excellent acting 
in Mephistopheles, it had a considerable run. It was 
afterwards published by Simpkin and Marshall. 

The most successful attempt to set Faust to music 
is that of the late Prince Radzivil. His composition is 
spoken of in the highest terms of approbation by those 
who have had the honour of being present at a rehearsal 
of it, and I understand that the Princess (his widow) has 
printed (or is about to print) the whole, though only 
for circulation amongst her friends. Goethe's approval 



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of the attempt has been unequivocally expressed. — 
(Works, vol. xxx. p. 89.) 

It appears from the correspondence between Goethe 
and Zelter, (vol. ii. pp. 424, 429), that Zelter once 
undertook to write music for Faust by the desire of the 
author ; nor must I forget to mention that Goethe's 
Faust has been adapted to the stage by no less a person 
than Tieck. It was first acted in its altered state at 
Leipzig and Dresden on the 28th August, 1829, the 
anniversary of Goethe's eightieth birthday, and is 
now a stock-piece at the principal theatres. A good 
deal of discussion took place at the time as to the fit- 
ness of the poem for theatrical representation at all ;* 
though Schlegel, who considers the question in his 
lectures on the drama (Lect. 15) and decides in the 
negative, appears to me to have set the question at 
rest. 

I named what I believed to be all the published 
translations of Faust in the Preface to my first Edition. 
Dr. Sieglitz says that it has been translated into Swe- 
dish, but he appears to be speaking from hearsay, and 
avows that he has no knowledge of the book. He 
also mentions an English translation by Gay ; but I 
fancy this must be still in MS.-j~ I have just been 
informed that an Italian translation by M. Scalvini is 
now in progress at Paris. 

All the Commentaries I had been able to obtain were 
also named in my first Edition. I am happy to find that 
I had, even then, all which have any known existence 
but two: Wolf's Lectures, delivered at Jena in 1829, 

* See Bechstein's Pamphlet, published at Stuttgardt, 1831. 
t I have received sure intelligence of no less than four metrical 
versions existing in MS. 



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never printed ;* and M. von Arnim's Preface to the 
German Translation of Marlow. To make this appen- 
dix complete, I shall here recapitulate the whole of 
them : 

Ueber Goethe's Faust : Vorlesungen von Dr. Schu- 
barth, Berlin, 1830. 

Ueber Goethe's Faust und dessen Fortsetzung, nebst 
einem Anhange von dem ewigen Juden, Leipzig, 1824. 

Aesthetische Vorlesungen Ueber Goethe's Faust, &c. 
von Dr. Hinrichs, Halle, 1825. 

Ueber Calderon's Tragoedie vom Wunderthatigen 
Magus ; Ein Beitrag zum Verstandniss der Faustischen 
Fabel, von Karl Rosenkrantz, Halle und Leipzig, 1829. 

Ueber Erklarung und Fortsetzung des Faust im All- 
gemeinen &c, von K. Rosenkrantz, Leipzig, 1831. 

Doctor Faustus, Tragodie von Marlowe &c. ; aus dem 
Englischem iibersetzt von W. Miiller. Mit einer Vor- 
rede von Ludwig von Arnim, Berlin, 1808. 

Herold's Stimme zu Goethe's Faust, von C. F. G 1, 

Leipzig, 1831. 

Zur Beurtheilung Goethe's, mit Beziehung auf ver- 
wandte Literatur und Kunst, von Dr. Schubarth, 1820 ; 
a work in two volumes, of which a large part is occu- 
pied with Faust. 

Goethe aus personlichem Umgange dargestellt, von 
Falk; the last 110 pages of which consist of a Com- 
mentary on Faust. 

Vorlesungen iiber Goethe's Faust, von Dr. Rauch, 
1830. 

In Schlegel's Lectures on Dramatic Literature, Lect. 
15, there are a few remarks. Faust also forms the 

* When at Jena, I was fortunate enough to meet with a gentle- 
man who had attended the course ; but from the account he gave 
me, I do not believe I should have learnt any thing new by at- 
tending it. 



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subject of some letters in the Briefrvechsel between 
Schiller and Goethe, vol. iii. pp. 129 — 141. Perhaps 
the most striking and original view of Goethe's character 
is that taken by Tieck in his Introduction to Lenz's 
Works. 

It only remains to mention the artists who have 
taken the old tradition or the modern drama of Faust 
for their subject matter. Of the former class, I know 
but two worth mentioning : one is Rembrandt, who 
has left a head of Faust, and a sketch of him in his 
study, sitting just as Goethe has described him, in 
the midst of books and instruments, with a magic 
circle ready drawn and a skeleton half hidden by a 
curtain in the room. The other is van Sichem, a 
Dutch artist, born about 1580. He has left us two 
sketches : a scene between Faust and Mephistopheles, 
and a scene between Wagner and an attendant spirit, 
Auerhain by name. These really interesting produc- 
tions are minutely described by Dr. Sieglitz, and I 
have seen a copy of the sketch by Rembrandt myself. 
The pictures in Auerbach's cellar are described, ante, 
p. 262. 

The illustrators of Faust mentioned by Dr. Sieglitz 
(and I know of no others) are : Retzsch, with his English 
imitator Moses, and a French imitator who modestly con- 
ceals his name; Nauwerk, Nehrlich, Nake, Ramberg, 
Lacroix (for Stapfer's translation), and Cornelius, whose 
designs were engraved by Ruschweyh in Rome. Of 
these, the most celebrated are Retzsch and Cornelius. 
It is quite unnecessary to speak of Retzsch, whose fame 
is now universally diffused. Cornelius was formerly at 
the head of the school of painting at Diisseldorf, and 
is now President of the Academy of the Design at 
Munich. He enjoys the reputation of being the first 



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historical painter in Germany, and his illustrations 
of Faust have great merit ; but being in the largest 
folio, and three or four pounds in price, they are com- 
paratively little known. 

[It is to be regretted that little or nothing is known in England 
of the present state of painting, sculpture and engraving in Germany. 
The subject unfortunately lay beyond the scope of Mr. Phillips' 
admirable Lectures on the History and Principles of Painting, the 
latest contribution to the literature of art. Were I now called on to 
name the writer best qualified to supply the deficiency, I should 
name the author of the Diary of an Ennuyee, who has manifested 
the most singular power of making paintings and statues speak to 
the imagination and understanding through books ; probably by 
presenting only their poetical side, unless where technical allusion 
might assist in discriminating the class.] 



ERRATA. 



p. xi. Preface, 1. 23, for languages read language. 
p. ci. 1. 8 of note, for xiv. read xxxiv. 
p. 9, 1. 14, for in tune insert in the vein. 
p. 10, 1. 3, for spread out read tread. 

p. 19, 1. 11, for company read guide, and last line, for features 
read lines. 

p. 19, 1. 24, insert all around me after nature. 

p. 40, 1. 22, for thrilling read trilling. 

p. 103, 1. 1, insert pointing to the monkeys. 

p. 115, 1. 8, for rustles read breathes. 

p. 116, 1. 20, after bodily read and grey. 

p. 120, 1. 20, for wishing she knows not what read knowing neither 

what she would nor should. 
p. 228, 1. 11 of note, for II read El. 
p. 231, 1. 27, for maniform read multiform. 
p. 257, last line but one, insert to the comic after comic. 
p. 266, 1. 15, after Falk read repeating Goethe's words. 
p. 267, 1. 2, for Hen. V. read Hen. IV. Part 2. 
p. 272, 1. 5, for lasciar read lascia. 

p. 276, 1. 19, for affarri read affanni, and line 30, es for est. 
p. 288, 1. 10, for martes read montes, and for nascitur read nascetur. 
p. 314, Note, for Matter read Mutter, 
p. 320, 1. 19, for cramping read cranking. 




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